


A Different Light

by madness_on_the_milano



Series: The Flora Colossi and the Enhanced Procyonid [7]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Confessions, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Grandmothers, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Mistakes, Mother-Son Relationship, Sick Character, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-06-12 15:59:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 68,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15343383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madness_on_the_milano/pseuds/madness_on_the_milano
Summary: Suddenly having Lylla back in his life brings secrets and truths out into the open, some of which Rocket never meant or wanted to come out.





	1. Chapter 1

He didn't know if it would still be okay to ask Quill if they could listen to music together. Before everything had happened - the batteries, the fighting, Yondu, Ego, the battle, _Yondu_ \- it had become a ritual for them to pick a song and listen to it. Sometimes they talked while it played, sometimes they didn't. Thing was, Rocket really missed having someone who understood a part of him.

Yondu had understood _all_ of him. Hell, even Groot hadn't understood all of him, much as he had loved his friend.

He looked at the solid door of the captain's quarters and squared his shoulders. He couldn't chicken out forever. He knocked, once and then twice. Just as he was starting to lose his nerve, the door slid open. No going around it, guy looked rough. Peter rubbed his eyes and blinked down. "You okay?"

"When did you sleep last?"

"What do you mean?"

"You look like hell."

"Thanks, Rock."

He wasn't doing very well at this. He tried again. "You look tired."

"I'm not the one with dark circles under my eyes." Quill stepped away from the doorway, back inside his room. "You comin' in?"

The captain's quarters weren't a hell of a lot bigger than the others on the Quadrant. The room was bigger, there was a bathroom somewhere (Rocket could smell soap), but it was hardly different to his and Groot's own.  He followed Quill as he wandered to his bed and then flopped down on the mattress, the blankets strewn around on the floor. "Peter, can we-"

"Nightstand."

Rocket spotted it chilling out on the pre-mentioned nightstand and went to get it. It bumped against a mug that Rocket had thought might be empty, but was soon proven wrong when it tilted and spilled up his arm. He shrieked and dropped the Zune, freezing as it hit the floor. What if he'd broken it? Yeah, they had clones, but Peter would never ever forgive him if he smashed up the gift from Yondu, accident or not.

"Oh, God!" Quill almost fell off his bed, panic all over his features. He didn't even bother to ask permission like some might have, instead he grabbed him up and headed directly to the bathroom. "I'm such a fucking idiot! I forgot I had coffee..."

"I didn't mean to drop it, I'm sorry-"

"Not your fault."

"But the Zune-"

"Fuck the Zune." Peter said. "You think I put an object above any of you?"

"No..."

"One day, I'll ask you again and you'll say 'of course not, Pete' without even a second of doubt." Quill threatened and he gently manoeuvred Rocket's arm underneath the cold  water gushing from the faucet, rubbing between his ears as he flinched. "I know, it stings. Once this is done, I think it's your turn to choose a song."

It wasn't and Peter surely knew this. Rocket looked into the dingy mirror. He could see their reflections, Quill looking as though scratching his ears was the single most important task to have ever fallen on his shoulders and wondered just how it was that the man could be so fucking _nice_ after everything. He reached out after a few minutes and shut the faucet off, shaking his arm to make droplets of water fly from his skin. The touch stopped and he grabbed futilely above his head to stop Quill from removing his hand.

Peter snickered. "I'm not stopping forever, man, I just think it would be nicer to be out of the bathroom."

"Not always such a good idea for you to think, Quill!" Rocket said and, on instinct, he jumped from the sink to Peter's shoulder. He wasn't as solid as Groot, but it felt nice to be somewhere high again. Peter was a fucking giant at over six feet tall.

"You're lucky that I'm a nice captain who loves you or you'd have lost your song privileges." Peter muttered as he began walking back out.

"Lucky for me, you have good taste in friends and music."

Peter looked ridiculously pleased with himself as he picked the Zune from the floor. He turned it on and nodded. "It's a tough thing. Didn't even drown in the coffee."

"That's 'cause all of your coffee fell on me." Rocket pointed out. "I can't believe that tiny little thing holds three hundred songs! Are you sure it does?"

"Groot helped me make a decision to listen to all of them in a single night, so I'm pretty much certain."

"So that's why he's been sleeping all day while you look like you've been dragged through the starways backward!"

"Says you, you little fuzzbucket." At Rocket's sharp look, Peter hastily explained. "It's a compliment."

"I sure hope it is, 'cause it doesn't sound like one," Rocket warned, but on this occasion, he chose to let it go. Peter wasn't 100% of a dick after all. He held onto the collar of Peter's shirt as the humanoid sat down and almost fell off when the idiot decided he wanted to lie down instead. "Dammit, Quill. First you burn me, then you drop me..."

"Choose a song, you drama queen."

Purely to annoy him, Rocket sat on his stomach and started scrolling through the extensive playlist. He liked the Zune, but the Walkman had been something special. At least they had the clones of its music - _his_ clones - but it hadn't been right, being on a silent ship, so he had opted to share them. He could still remember the fucking smile when Quill had heard his mom's music again. He'd truly thought he'd lost it forever. He looked at Quill who was staring distantly as though he could see the dad he'd not known he had. Rocket had hurt like that once. He could remember how Peter had helped him through losing his best friend and now he looked at the humanoid, wondering how he could possibly help him. Peter had shared his music, he'd talked with him, he'd scratched his ears and all of that had helped. Did humanoids like having their ears scratched? Rocket shuffled closer to Peter's head and reached behind the shell of his ear, feeling the bump of the universal translator underneath the skin. He tried to be careful, remembering his claws and gently scratched the skin.

Peter started _giggling._ He moved his head and brushed away Rocket's hand. "Why are you ticklin' me?"

"I was being nice!"

"How would you like it if I tickled you?"

Rocket shrugged. "I dunno, I've never been tickled. Don't even _think_ about it!" he told the humanoid as he reached out, with an almost gleeful look in his eyes. "If you like having eyebrows, do not tickle me! All I was doing was scratchin' your ears like you and Drax do for me." Although he was kinda pissed at Drax for giving Mantis permission to pet him, like he was a fucking animal, like he was _owned._

"Why's that?"

Rocket looked at his hands. "Because it's what you did for me after I lost Groot. I thought it would help."

"I'm okay."

"You d'ast liar."

Peter huffed out a weak form of laughter, similar to how Yondu had laughed in the brig. "I'll be okay. I'm not broke, I'm just hurtin'. Eventually, it's not going to hurt so bad."

Seconds after Peter had spoken those words, there was a whistle and a scream of agony - Drax's - rang out. Rocket looked at Peter and held his hands together in his lap. "I told you not to give the arrow to Kraglin, didn't I?"

"No you didn't. You came up to me, said 'here' and then went back to your room to build explosives." Peter helpfully reminded him. He sat up, looking at his door warily before glancing back at him. "You hitchin' a ride or what?"

"If you're gonna offer, I think I'll take you up." Rocket said and he sprang up to his shoulder. "Damn, I wish your shoulders were wider."

"One day, Groot'll be saying that to you." Peter followed the sound of the scream to one of the many hallways. It was clear that he knew the ship like the back of his damn hand, because Rocket hadn't been completely sure where it had come from. Peter crossed his arms and looked from Kraglin who was staring guiltily at Drax to Drax who looked as though he wanted nothing more than to rip the fin out of Kraglin's head and stick it somewhere painful. "You guys wanna tell me what's going on?"

"This one attacked me!"

"It was an accident!"

"He should be placed on the next planet we land on and left to fend for himself!"

"I only nicked you!"

Peter stepped closer to Drax and nodded at the admittedly deep gash on the man's bicep. "That's one hell of a nick. Kraglin, I told you, don't practise in an open space. You could kill someone with that thing."

"Didn't mean to hurt no one. Sorry."

Drax glared at him for several seconds and then nodded. "I forgive you. I had better find Mantis, she gets lost easily."

That wasn't such a bad thing in Rocket's opinion. He didn't hate her, but if there was one thing worse than outright hate, it was condescension. If she wasn't looking at him with that dumb look of adoration, she was trying to touch him and it made him feel unsafe, even though she was easily the least threatening person onboard the Quadrant. It was probably 'cause she was new and he didn't know her all that well, but there was also the fact that she never asked. Rocket was pretty sure even Kraglin would ask, but it never seemed to even occur to the Empath that maybe permission would be a good thing to ask for before she started putting her hands all over him. He shivered and lowered his head to let Peter scratch between his ears. "Nothin' ever stays peaceful with him around, does it?"

"Nothing's peaceful with any of you around." Quill grinned at him. "Still, keeps life interesting. We'd better relieve Gamora from piloting duty."

Piloting. Now that made life interesting.


	2. Chapter 2

"Rocket, I really don't think you should be simultaneously inventing weaponry and flying this spacious aircraft."

"It's called multi-tasking, Drax." Rocket pointed a wrench in Quill's direction. "Besides, he's helping."

"'Helping'? I'm flying this thing single-handed!"

In answer to that accusation, Rocket used one of his feet to steer, lurching the ship from side-to-side. "Is this better?"

"No! Quit using your foot to fly!"

Rocket did as Peter requested, though he and Drax shared a grin at Peter who was shaking his head. "Where are we even going, Quill?"

"Thought we'd see how Xandar's doing. God only knows what happened to it during the Expansion."

Rocket felt in his pocket for Groot's stone, which he'd kept from his son's pot. He was about to mention going to his best friend's gravesite, when he remembered somebody else who had held a rock sacred. "Pete, can we stop somewhere first?"

"Where?"

"Home. We'd better check on Lylla."

"Her planet's a small world, Rocket."

Rocket turned around in his seat to see Gamora right behind him. She'd been quiet, like Peter had, ever since killing Ego. He figured that she was upset with him for shooting her, but now she was here and despite what she was hinting at, her voice was gentle. "I know it is."

"Ego might have missed it."

"Yeah, but he might have found it before she did."

"Maybe you should try callin' her." Peter suggested. "And if she answers, that's great. If she doesn't...we'll go down to try and find her." He gestured to the enormous screen. "Give it a try."

Rocket pressed in her number. It pulsed dimly with its blue light, signalling that there was a connection, but her picture didn't come up. Something locked inside his chest. He tried again. Still no answer. He tried again. Nothing. He kept trying, hoping that she would pick up because the alternative, that he'd lost another friend, was too much to even consider.

"Rocket," Gamora said after his nineteenth attempt to get through to Lylla. "We'll go find her."

"She's not dead." Nobody said a word to contradict or agree. "She's not allowed to be dead!" Then again, nor had Groot and Yondu, but they had died anyway. "Lylla can't just die. She was the first person to ever escape Halfworld."

"Why don't you give me the coordinates and go find Groot?"

Rocket's mind turned back to his son. However important Lylla was, Groot was infinitely more important. "Okay," he agreed. It was the only thing left to do. He wouldn't know if Lylla was dead or not until they got to Home.

* * *

"I am Groot!" _'Daddy, look at that big cloud!'_

Rocket helped Groot onto his shoulder and went to the large window, placing both palms against it. "Cosmic storm," he explained to the young sapling. "They're pretty common in some parts of the galaxy. Guess we just got lucky."

"I am Groot." _'It has pretty lights!'_

Definitely just like his father. Groot had loved thunderstorms too, from a distance and under decent shelter. He'd fucking loved cosmic storms when they'd found them. Of course his son had inherited that trait. "I don't think we'll be going through it, buddy."

Groot looked disappointed. "I am Groot?" _'Why not?'_

"Because we ain't headed that direction." And Rocket wasn't thrilled to pieces by lightning, even after all these years. The cosmic storm, it just reminded him too painfully of Lylla's flashing world. He turned and sat down with his back to the window. Groot jumped down onto his lap and rested against his chest, his little fingers wrapped around Rocket's thumb. He really was the cutest fucking thing when he wanted to be.

"I am Groot?" _'Daddy, did you lie to me?'_

"Huh?" Rocket looked down at Groot. "What about?"

"I am Groot." _'You said I didn't have grandparents. But if Daddy Peter had two daddies-'_

"Only one of 'em was his real daddy." Rocket adjusted Groot so they could both see each other clearly. "I was wrong," he admitted. "I got it wrong. You had a grandfather, remember the guy with the arrow?"

"I am Groot!" _'The one Uncle Kraglin has?'_

"That's right. See, that guy was your granddad, Yondu."

"I am Groot?" _'Who was the guy Daddy Peter went with?'_

"Nobody at all."

"I am Groot?" _'Are you sure I don't have any other grandparents? Mommy 'Mora and Aunt Neb mentioned their daddy.'_

"He don't count." Goddamn if Groot was ever considered Thanos' grandson. Someone like him didn't ever deserve someone like Groot. But Rocket didn't always get to choose what family Groot ended up with. The kid had recently acquired a grandfather, an uncle and two aunts. No wonder he was feeling curious. "I guess you have got a lot of grandparents, but you might not get to see most of 'em," he explained. "Most of them aren't around any more."

"I am Groot." _'That isn't fair.'_

"You're right, it isn't fair." Rocket thought of Lylla and sighed, resting his head against the window. "It isn't fucking fair."

"I am Groot?" _'What grandparents do I have left?'_

"You got Daddy Drax's mom and dad, but they both suck." Rocket thought harder. He was pretty sure that Kraglin wasn't on speaking terms with his parents any more, Mantis had been orphaned, Gamora and Quill's parents were both in the dead category and, his own father aside, Rocket had been orphaned years ago. But then there was her. There was the one who had taught him how to create and wire explosives. "You've got your grandma, Lylla."

"I am Groot?" _'Are we ever going to see her?'_

Rocket felt his ears lower. "I sure hope so." He couldn't handle losing her. She was the only person left who knew what Rocket's place of birth had been like and his cybernetics twinged as if to highlight this fact. "Do you want to hear some stories about her?"

Groot's eyes brightened and he nodded eagerly. "I am Groot!" _'Yeah!'_


	3. Chapter 3

He still tried calling Lylla. Tried every damn hour, but nothing appeared on the screen, she didn't call back, nothing. He felt like he was going crazy and couldn't stand the idea of being away from the phone for too long in case she did call and he missed it. For once, he didn't even want his ears to be scratched. Touch once again completely unnerved him and he fully blamed Lylla for it. When the green speck of Home appeared in the windshield, he felt both elated and terrified. What if they got there and everything was gone, swallowed up by Ego? What if she was dead and they couldn't even find a body to bury? How scared must she have been to see such an enormous cloud erupt from the ground, billowing towards her with its flashing lights?

"Rocket, you gonna eat today?"

"No."

"Come on, man, you'll starve."

"Fuck off and fuck you, Quill!"

_I know you steal batteries you don't need. And you push away anyone who's willing to put up with you 'cause just a little bit o'love reminds you how big and empty that hole inside you actually is._

The blue bastard was gonna haunt him for the rest of his life, short as it was. Rocket moved his eyes to where Peter's voice had come from.  The man still stood there and Rocket waited to see if he really would fuck off. He didn't. "I didn't mean that."

"It's okay."

"No it isn't."

"I get it." Peter took just a step forward, knowing full well that even being too close in proximity might set Rocket off. "I know you're scared right now, but so are we. You'll literally kill yourself if you keep acting like this."

"I can't miss her."

"We'll be in her homeworld soon. Whatever happens, you'll need to be strong. And you won't be if you're starved damn near to death."

"She's gone, isn't she, Pete?"

"You've got us no matter what, right?"

 _No matter what_. That was something he knew to be true. Rocket took a jerky step away from the phone, noticing how Peter relaxed as he did. "Right."

* * *

 "Keep your vines out my bowl, twig. Pete, he's damn near as bad as you were."

"Don't know what you're sayin'." Quill said as he stole a dumpling directly out of Kraglin's bowl.

"Groot only wanted your onions." Rocket defended his son. "God knows you aren't eating them."

"I was saving them until last!"

"The only food Kraglin doesn't eat is Gunavian jelly."

"Only because you and that girl did nasty, nasty-"

Gamora pulled a face of disgust. "Guys, please! We don't need to hear about his many sexual escapades at the dinner table!"

"I am Groot!" _'Daddy, what's a sexual escapade?'_

Rocket put down his spoon. "Well, Groot, sex is when two or more adults-"

"You can't teach him that!" Gamora insisted, as though she hadn't been the one to bring up the damn subject.

"What? I learned when I wasn't much older than Groot is."

Drax put in his opinion. "Intercourse is a wondrous and wholesome thing."

"Clearly not the way Quill does it." Rocket pointed out.

"Oh no. Definitely not."

"I am Groot?" _'Daddy, what is it?'_

Rocket ignored Gamora's protests and gave his son his full undivided attention. "Sex is when two or more adults make each other feel very good, sometimes while trying to procreate."

"I am Groot?" _'What does procreate mean?'_

"Procreating is when you try and make a baby."

Groot's eyes lit up in comprehension and he pointed around the table to his four parents. "I am Groot!" _'So you all had the sex to make me!'_

"What did he say?" Mantis asked as everyone either collapsed in laughter or started protesting that no, that hadn't happened. Despite not understanding the baby Flora Colossus' language, it didn't take a lot to understand what his question had been for everyone else, but she was new. "Drax, what did he say?"

Drax was laughing too hard to answer. Rocket felt as though he would die from laughing alone. He tried to explain through wheezing; "He thinks... he asked if we all..."

"What this little moron is trying to say," Peter said, glaring at Drax as the warrior began pointing at him. "Is that Groot thought that all four of us, y'know, _made_ him."

"You mean, you _didn't?"_

Gamora snorted and then buried her head into her arms, her entire body shaking. "Such a nice, pleasant family dinner," she said, her voice muffled and slightly cracked from mirth.

"Blame Rocket!"

"I blame Gamora." Rocket donated some of his carrots to Groot and looked Gamora in the eyes as she sat back up. "Wasn't _me_ who mentioned sexual escapades."

"You know who we _should_ blame? Quill." Kraglin pointed at Peter with his fork and then slid his bowl to Gamora who was on dishwashing duty.

"I blame you for bringing up Gunavian jelly in the first damn place." Peter retorted, grinning smugly at him.

Groot pulled Rocket's arm, bored of the havoc he had unwittingly caused. "I am Groot." _'Dad, I want Aunt 'Tis to tuck me in tonight.'_

"Okay. You wanna go over to her?"

"I am Groot?" _'Will she tuck you in too?'_

"In her dreams. Go on, I'll be there in a couple hours."

"I am Groot." _'Nighty night, Daddy!'_

"Nighty night, Groot." Rocket watched Mantis pick Groot up, snuggling him against her shoulder. For all her faults, she really had taken to Groot and the sapling had taken to her, too. He sighed and rubbed his hands over his eyes, resting his elbows on the table. He looked around at them. The three original members of his family. "I shouldn't have shut you all off recently. Sorry."

"I've not been all that different myself." Peter stretched his arms out, the hands going behind his head. "Things have been...they've sucked. But at least we've got each other to fall back on when the going gets really tough."

"Yeah." Rocket let Gamora squeeze his shoulder, putting his hand over her fingers. "We do."


	4. Chapter 4

"You never told me this was a stormy planet, Rocket."

"If you're scared, Quill, I'll hold your hand and steer this ship single-handedly into Home. I'll even land it by myself too if it'll make you feel any safer."

"That would make me feel safer." Drax said helpfully.

Rocket smiled at him for his well-placed support. "Thanks, Drax. Good to know that someone on this ship understands that I am the better pilot!"

"You're both a huge pain in my ass." Peter grumbled, but he began the descent with none of the panic Rocket had shown upon his very first Home visit. "When were you here last?"

"Little after I escaped from the lab."

"So Groot was with you."

Rocket glanced over at the sapling who was sleeping on Kraglin's shoulder. "Yeah, he was." One day he would have to tell them the story of the escape. Just not today and probably not tomorrow neither. He heard Mantis gasp as lightning suddenly illuminated the ship, momentarily blinding them all. Peter cursed but by the time the thunder roared, they were nearly on the ground, carved out roughly by rivers. The ship trembled as it landed and Rocket, unable to wait, ran to the doors. The first thing that happened as the doors opened was a threatening grumble from the emerald skies above. He looked up at the gathered clouds, remembering how scared he had once been of the storms. It didn't matter. If Lylla was dead, she mattered more. If Lylla was alive, she mattered more.

He stepped out onto the rocky ground, looking for the dome of her workshop. "Lylla!" The skies growled a warning and he glared up at them. They wouldn't stop him. "Screw it!" Not caring if the lightning chose to catch him, he ran from the safety of the ship, sending river water flying and stones broken apart by the storms scattering over the landscape. He tried her name, he even tried her _number_ , but no one answered. Then he saw something on the ground. Something red and nearly a perfectly spherical shape. He crouched down, cradling it in both hands and slumped when he realised what he was holding.  
Her favourite rock. The one thing she had left of her real homeworld, not this stormy, miserable, god-forsaken place where no sane person willingly went. She had coveted it, protected it, loved it, for twelve years, nearly twice as long as Rocket had been alive. Now it was parted from her, which could only mean one thing. _"Lylla,"_ he whispered, like saying her name would return her to him. He heard someone's feet, stepping softly and assumed it was Gamora. He lowered his head, but looked forward, blinking in amazement to see a pair of feet, as bare as his own. He lifted his head, his eyes travelling over the familiar purple garb, the delicate round head, and finally into those circular, curious eyes.

Lylla offered him a hand to help him to his feet, but instead grunted in surprise as he grabbed around her waist, burying his face into her chest. She didn't say anything, opting to carefully pat his head, her arm around his neck. It was probably a huge shock for her to come out to find him on her world when he hadn't been there since he'd arrived for the first time as little more than a child.

"I thought you were dead, you _jerk."_ Rocket looked up at her as if she might have disappeared. "Don't you ever fucking do this to me again, damn you, I've been freaking out, thinking I'd never see you again..."

Lylla grabbed his head and pushed his ear against her chest. She was still silent, but he could hear her heartbeat and then felt her nose against the top of his head. Her way of saying 'I'm alive, so stop worrying, you moron.'

Rocket sighed and let her go, getting up. She used to be a head taller than him and was now a head _shorter_ than he was, but they could discuss that later. "Why didn't you pick up? I called you hundreds of times."

Lylla showed him her pad. The circuits were all fried. So that was why she had been quiet.

"What happened?"

Lylla raised a brow at him. Of course she couldn't tell him.

"Come back to the ship with me. I'll fix it and we can talk." Rocket held out her favourite rock. "I found this, by the way."

Lylla's eyes lit up and she put it inside her robe. She had once told him that she had a pouch and that was where she kept her most important things, such as her favourite rock. He also knew that she had kept one of the bullets he had made in there. God only knew why, it was laughably low quality compared to the stuff he'd made since.

"Thank God, you're alive." Rocket felt giddy with relief. "You know, when I found your rock, I thought...I thought I'd lost you too. All the things you taught me, they've come in real useful, probably the reason why I've lived this long..."

Lylla bumped against him, her arm going around his shoulders, despite that fact she had to go on the tips of her toes to reach. A strangled noise made its way from her throat. Even though her pad was busted, he knew she was trying to assure him that she was just fine. And she was. All they had to do was get her voice back.

* * *

He felt kinda guilty when he got Lylla back to the Quadrant. She had barely stepped foot inside when she was bombarded by Groot who jumped into her arms, Drax who was fawning all over her like she was a little empress (which Rocket _highly_ suspected she enjoyed), Mantis who was cooing over her like she was a newborn (judging by the way her nostrils flared, she definitely did _not_ enjoy that) and Quill whose first course of action was to tell her she looked like a Dungeon Master (both she and Rocket had been confused by that). Only Gamora was calm and sensible about their new visitor. Kraglin's response was to offer Lylla a choice between two bowls of soup. After some deliberation, Lylla chose both.

"Everybody, leave Lylla alone for a sec!" Rocket ordered after letting Lylla finish her meal. "Her pad broke, it needs to get fixed."

"Promise me you won't take apart our ship."

"If it means she can speak again, I'll use every d'ast piece of this ship." It wouldn't go that far. But the look of fear on Peter's face was too damn funny to pass up.

"I am Groot?" _'Daddy, is this my grandma?'_

"Sure is, buddy." Rocket led Lylla to the small room he used as a workshop. Well, Kraglin said it was small. To Rocket, it was pretty damn spacious. "Okay. Wires are kept in those coloured drawers, screws, nuts and bolts are in the holders, pliers are kept in those pots, I got a soldering iron and circuit boards are in that box over there."

Lylla gave him her pad and started collecting the things she needed. He put it on the table and watched over her shoulder as she made quick work of fixing up her pad. He could remember watching her work when he hadn't even been a year old and how she had filled him with wonder way back then, just like she did now. The keyboard flashed up and she pressed down on the keys. "I am glad to see you again."

"I'm glad to hear your voice." Living with these weirdoes was rubbing off on him. All he now wanted to do was grab her, hug her, hold her, until he was certain that she was indeed alive and well. He reached out carefully with both arms and then it was his turn to grunt in surprise as she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him close. Her arms didn't work quite like his did, but it helped. He felt better. "What happened?"

"A cloud came up from the ground. It swallowed my workshop and most of Home."

"Your workshop?"

"It took the flower Groot gave me."

Rocket glanced at the sapling who was touching the red stone holding Lylla's robe together. "That's not your fault."

Lylla laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. "It came at the workshop so quickly and I thought it was just an ordinary cloud. I dropped my pad and it damaged the circuits. It was so hot that even from a mile away, I could feel it. It was like standing in the path of Eta Carinae."

"I think you _may_ be exaggerating a little."

"Perhaps." Lylla looked to the floor. "I have nothing here now. Everything is gone."

"Maybe you could stay with us, if you wanted."

Lylla snapped her eyes up to meet his. "I am not sure. Humanoid people have not been good to me in the past."

"These are good people."

"The insect lady looks at us like we are toys."

Rocket couldn't disagree. "Yeah, she's...she's completely harmless, it's just she doesn't have many social skills like you and me. Look, Lylla, we could die at any moment. You, for example, you're like _fourteen!_ Your life is probably half over."

"Thank you for these comforting words, Rocket. I am starting to wish I had allowed the cloud to eat me."

He wasn't being very understandable. "What I'm saying is, our life could be over without any warning. So why not try to spend most of it together?"

"Are you not worried that I might cramp your style?"

"Maybe I want to have my style cramped. Come on, you said so yourself that you have nothing here. But you have something here, on this ship."

Lylla passed him Groot who was holding out his arms to Rocket. As the baby wrapped his arms around him, she smiled sadly. "Yes. I do have something."

"So what's stopping you?"

"What might the others think?"

"You'll die if you stay here, Lylla. They wouldn't want that any more than I would."

Lylla smiled. A warm, almost content smile. "Then there is nothing stopping me."


	5. Chapter 5

_For once in my life_

_I have someone who needs me_

_Someone I've needed so long_

Dancing wasn't that damn hard in Rocket's opinion. Just swaying in time to the beat, occasionally throwing the kid in the air. Nothing to it. He settled Groot on his hip as footsteps approached and found himself looking up at Kraglin who was holding one of Rocket's homemade creations in his hand. 

"You left one of these things lying around again."

"That's a grenade, so be very nice to it and maybe it won't blow up and take your entire arm off."

"Sounds like you're describing yourself there."

"I was actually describing Lylla."

Kraglin passed him the grenade. "She's damn near as scary as Nebula."

"Come on, Obfonteri. Nebula isn't that bad!" 

"Easy for you to say. You're under three feet tall, so you didn't see the murder in her eyes like what I did."

"You're in a real dickish mood today."

"So would you be if you found a grenade in your underwear drawer."

"There's a solution. Don't wear underwear."

"I got an even better one. Quit hiding your bombs and other explosive things in my underwear drawer. Don't know what your problem is with underpants, don't even wanna know. Just stop trying to scare me half to damn death each day."

"Where's the fun in that?"

"I'll tell Peter."

"Peter don't scare me."

"I'll tell Lylla."

"I'll stop."

"That would be much appreciated." 

Rocket smirked as Kraglin practically skipped away, undoubtedly very pleased with himself. Little did _he_ know that Lylla had helped Rocket put the explosive there. He hugged Groot close to his chest and then looked at his son. "You like having your grandma here?" 

"I am Groot!" _'Yes!'_  

"Good. So do I."

"I am Groot?" _'Does she like me, Daddy?'_

"How could anyone not like you?"

"I am Groot." _'Those Ravagers didn't.'_

"Oh, they were jerks." It had been actual hell to see his child looking so damn broken. He hadn't been able to protect him and the anger about it had caused him to display his best marksmanship to date. Yondu's arrow had simply sped things along. 

"I am Groot?" _'Whose mommy is she?'_

"Mine I guess. She taught me a lot of useful things, has always been there if I needed advice or...anything." Lylla hated Halfworld with a passion, but if he needed her to discuss the nightmares or the pains, it was a guarantee that she would willingly talk about it with him. "She's like an honorary mom, I guess." She'd lent him her most prized possession once, way back when he'd still feared thunderstorms. He could never forget that. It was the kind of thing 89P09 would have probably done. 

"I am Groot?" _'Is Mommy 'Mora my real mom?'_

"Gamora is 100% your real mom. Sometimes when parents die, other people step in to take the role, to teach the kids survival skills, make sure they're okay, to give a damn. That's why Lylla is so important to me. She taught me how to make bombs so I could protect myself, and you." Rocket rubbed the back of Groot's head. "Ain't nothing more important than you, is there?" 

"I am Groot?" _'Why don't you call Grandma Lylla 'Mom'?"_

"Because she doesn't know how much I think of her."

"I am Groot?" _'Why not?'_

"Because I don't think she feels that kind of way about me." Just because someone was decent didn't mean they wanted to keep him. Things didn't always work out like that. "The only thing that matters is we're keeping her safe." Lightning didn't strike twice - or thrice, in Rocket's case - and besides, Lylla had already had babies. She'd been forced to leave them. She didn't need him bringing up bad memories. 

* * *

"Was my cooking not satisfactory?" Lylla asked, looking in concern at all the full bowls. She had been very insistent that she wanted to make dinner and so far Rocket and Mantis were the only ones to have finished their bowls. Mantis had even asked for seconds and Drax had wordlessly slid her his bowl and then eaten his second bread roll. 

Rocket genuinely didn't understand why everyone else was leaving their bowls full, claiming to not be hungry. Sure the food smelled weird and the colour was strange, but in Lylla's defence, Groot had wanted to help her. No wonder things looked different. "I liked it." He'd certainly had worse. "Do you want to go to the workshop and I'll join you later?" Tonight was his turn on dish duty. Everyone thought he was crazy for washing them by hand, but for some reason, he liked getting his hands in water. And the dishwashing machine was broke because he'd salvaged it for parts.  He hadn't told anyone about it just yet because watching them struggle with the machine was frickin' _hilarious._  

"That would be nice." Lylla jumped from her seat and headed out of the doorway. Rocket wasn't sure, but he thought he could hear her humming.

"Rocket, you're the only person on this ship who doesn't use the dishwashing machine." Drax pointed out as he began leaving the dining hall, Mantis by his side like a shadow.

"First of all, Drax, using the machine is fucking lazy. Second of all, as you know, I happen to enjoy washing the dishes by hand. Third of all, the machine had several useful parts in it and now it doesn't, which is why it don't work no more." The last part made Drax laugh for some reason as he moved out of view.

"I knew you'd screwed around with it! You _have_ to tell me when you take apart things on the ship! Didn't we discuss this enough times?" Peter started sliding bowls over to Kraglin. "You're not allowed your turn tonight. Kraglin will do them."

"What did _I_ do?!" Kraglin demanded, around the exact same time Rocket asked that very same question.

"Kraglin, when was the last damn time you did 'em?"

Kraglin thought about that. He shrugged. "Guess that's fair." 

Rocket crossed his arms and glared up at Peter. "I _did_ tell you about the dishwashing machine! I told you just now!"

"Yeah, _after_ you did it!"

By Peter's side, Gamora rolled her eyes and scooped Groot up from where he was sitting on the table. "I'm going to get snacks and get this little one to bed," she announced. "If you wake him up, there will be consequences, understood?" Neither Rocket or Peter were stupid enough to do anything more than nod in quiet agreement.

"So what? Those parts will come in useful someday and then you'll say 'Rocket, I can't believe I was dumb enough to doubt your genius' and I'll say 'I can believe that because you're a moron' and you'll say 'wow, you're right, I _am_ a moron' and that will be the smartest thing you've ever said!"

Peter didn't seem to agree with Rocket's prophecy. "I really don't see that happening, dude."

"Because you're a moron."

"Not that this little show isn't fun to watch," Kraglin interrupted. "But are you doing your own bowl, Rocket?"

"Yes."

"No."

_"Yes."_

_"No."_

_"Yes!"_

_"No!"_

"This is goin' nowhere." Kraglin muttered. "I'll be in the kitchen."

"I _am."_

"You are _not."_

"You makin' decisions _for_ me, Pete?" Goddamn if he was going through the bullshit of having someone do things for his 'benefit' again.

Quill hesitated, his eyebrows drawing closer together. He wasn't thinking of a way to democratically agree with Rocket's question. He was _confused._ After a moment of thought, he bent his knees and rested on them which gave Rocket a view of his face. Up close, he looked really uncertain. "What do you think is going on here?"

"I don't fucking know. You tell me!"

"I want to know your opinion, man."

That was a fuckin' first. "You're bein' a control freak, telling me what I can and can't do." Rules and regulations were a part of lab life. They belonged in prisons, in hospitals. In Halfworld.

"The ship rules are there for our safety, Rock."

Quill's voice was calm, gentle, but Rocket refused to be taken in so easily. He had made that mistake in Halfworld. "I've heard that before!"

Peter sighed, but it wasn't at him. He reached out, his fingertips touching Rocket's elbows and the procyon looked down, worried that compassion would turn to rage. "I know Gavaar lied to you about his crazy-ass rules being for your own good, but I'm not. The rules are so we can all be safe and we all need to follow them. Remember when Kraglin nearly skewered Drax with the arrow?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"I got him on swabbing duty for that. He's a Ravager, he knows that ship rules are there for the good of the crew." Peter shifted a little, so Rocket looked back up at him. "I'll bet Gavaar never once bothered to explain why he hurt you when you did things he didn't like."

It was a damn fortunate thing Quill hadn't bet money on it. "Could usually work out why," Rocket said lightly.

Peter nodded, his mouth set in a grim line. "Well, I'll explain this to you. If this ship is missing too many parts, it could fail. We could be attacked and not have enough protection. Too many things could go wrong. We've discussed it maybe hundreds of times, but keep having the same damn discussion. Talking isn't getting us anywhere, so I've got to give you a consequence, like taking you off your favourite non-vital duty. In theory, it should stick in your mind and hopefully you won't rip the Quadrant apart any more."

"I'm careful when I do it." Rocket fixed his eyes onto Quill's. "I don't take apart the important stuff like the engines or the oxygenator or the water filtration system."

"What if you set off a chain reaction or damaged something important? Anybody can make a mistake, even someone who knows mechanics like you do." Peter moved his legs out and crossed them. "I really hate telling you that you can't do something. It feels like a real dick move."

If Peter was being a dick deliberately, he would have banned Rocket from making new things entirely. It sucked not being allowed to do the dishes and feel the warm everythingness of water over his hands and through his fingers, but it wasn't hurting him. "You're not bein' a dick, I _guess,"_ he grudgingly admitted. God only knew Peter was right. Gavaar had never explained why it was bad to make mistakes or steal or disobey. Not like Pete. "You... you ain't gonna hit me?"

"Never." Quill hadn't didn't even take a split-second to answer. "I told you, didn't I? Doesn't matter what you do, what you say. I won't raise a hand to you and that's the truth." He held out his hand and touched between his ears, the contact light. "You don't hurt the people you love."


	6. Chapter 6

What woke Rocket up was nausea. He could feel Groot clambering around all over him, wide awake and he groaned as the sapling fell onto his stomach. "Knock it off, kid. Daddy don't feel too good."

"I am Groot!" _'Daddy, I'm hungry!'_

"Gimme a sec." He felt Groot's hand touch his nose and opened an eye. "What are you doing, Groot?" He booped the middle of Groot's face, where a nose would usually be on other species, gently. "How do you like that, hmm?"

"I am Groot!" _'You have a dry nose today!'_

Weird. He was pretty damn sure he wasn't dehydrated. He rolled off his bed and promptly crashed to the floor. He felt too weak to get back up and the nausea was getting worse.

_"It's your liver."_

_"What about it?"_

_"Your liver is failing."_

No. No, it couldn't be killing him now, it couldn't. He'd had his shot. He had four years left, years he had _plans_ for. He gasped as pain spasmed itself through his abdomen and looked into Groot's eyes as the sapling came closer. "Groot, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..."

"I am Groot?" _'What's going on, Daddy?'_ And the gentle way he touched Rocket's snout with his clumsy little hands made Rocket's chest squeeze inside.

 _"I'm dying,"_ Rocket thought, but he couldn't tell his son that. "Can you get someone?"

Groot ran to the door. He must have been very unwilling to leave Rocket's side, for he shot out his vines and dragged someone inside. "I am Groot!" _'Aunt 'Tis, Daddy isn't well!'_

"You chose _Mantis?"_ Rocket asked, exasperated. "Go and get someone else, Groot. And it's rude to drag people."

"I am Groot!" Groot huffed before running out to do exactly that. _'You are so ungrateful!'_

Mantis came closer. "Rocket?"

She was still his family, even if he didn't know or even like her all that well. "'m not doin' so great today."

She reached out, blinking in concern as he flinched away. "I don't mean to hurt you. I want to help."

"I don't want you to help."

She nodded, the black curtain of her hair falling to cover her face. "Sorry."

Rocket curled up as agony began coursing through his body. "Oh.. _fuck..."_

"I am Groot!" _'Daddy, I brought everyone!'_

Rocket briefly wished that he was already dead, until he felt Gamora's arm going around his shoulder to help sit him up. She pressed a pill to his mouth, softly urging him to swallow. At least he was with somebody both sane and helpful. Gamora looked over at the sapling. "Groot, go count the stars. We won't be long."

"I am Groot." _'But, Dad...'_

"What'd Mommy tell you? Go _on."_ As his son skipped out of sight, Rocket looked up at the others; at Kraglin, at Drax, Gamora, Mantis, Quill and finally at Lylla. The agony was lessening, but it still hurt to speak. "I'm _dyin'."_

"No, you're not, you little drama queen." Quill said breezily as if he didn't know a dying person when he saw one. "You've just got stomach flu or something. You'll be back to your usual self after a little time in the medbay."

"No, you don't understand..." Rocket wrapped his hand around Gamora's fingers, noticing how clammy they were against the green of her skin.

"Whatever happened, we'll get through it." Gamora promised, as though it was actually true. "What matters now is that we get you to the medbay and figure out what's going on."

"I am not dying in the fucking medbay."

"We are agreed on that." Drax said and he began ushering everybody out, leaving Gamora with Rocket for company.

Rocket looked up into Gamora's face. "I fucked up so bad..."

"You're going to be okay." She helped him stand up, knowing exactly how much he hated being treated like he was weak, but her hand didn't leave his. "I know you don't like the medbay, but it won't be a prolonged visit. You'll be out in a few days and you won't be on your own."

He kept bumping against her legs as they made their way to the medbay, but she didn't react aside from gently touching his shoulder to move him out of her path. As she opened the door, the dizziness returned and he held onto her pants' leg for balance. "'m sorry."

"That's okay. Give me your hand and I'll walk you in."

It must have been a huge pain in the ass for her to stoop down, but she didn't even seem to notice as they entered the medbay. It was a large room, white and sterile enough to send tingles down Rocket's spine. He let her help him onto the padded leather bench and blinked as she shone a bright light into each of his eyes. "Gamora, I'm dying."

"You've just caught something. You'll be fine." Gamora rubbed his shoulder and smiled.

Rocket looked around helplessly. It was clear that no one realised that he was telling the truth - he was a dead man walking. Then he noticed the body scanner standing by the far wall. If words couldn't be believed, a scan, a clear picture, would be. "Will you get the others back here?"

"Why?"

"Need to tell you all something important." As Gamora went off, he climbed down from the table and powered up the bodyscanner. It was surprisingly new, he guessed it had to be for emergencies. Life as a Ravager was dangerous enough without having unknown injuries lurking around. He stepped inside and lay on the stretcher, kicking the button to make it do what it had to do. He hadn't seen his internal organs in some time and he dreaded to think what some of them might look like now. 'Specially his fucked-up excuse of a liver. Fucked like the rest of him. He stepped out and the projected scan of his body glowed in different colours, showing that, yup, his liver was red, borderline black,  just as expected. "Goddammit."

"Guess who's been throwing up!" Peter called out. He had his arms around a very pale looking Mantis. "See? Told you it was nothin' serious, Rocket."

"What do you mean? What's wrong with her?"

Lylla looked sheepish. "I appear to have given you both food poisoning. Apologies."

Rocket blinked as Mantis wobbled, her hand touching her head. "You mean-" he remembered the hologram of his internal organs and covered the screen with his hand as Lylla approached. "Okay. Okay."

"What is that?"

"Nothin'. Just got freaked out over nothin', that's all."

"You called us down here. And you're clearly hiding something." Trust Drax to pick up on that.

Rocket shook his head. "Like I said. It's nothing." He wasn't dying, so no one needed to know. What would they want with someone who wouldn't be here in ten years' time anyway? He knew what his creator would have done if Rocket had been sick like this in his presence. He would have forced him to get it taken care of. Who was to say they wouldn't, too? "Like you said, Pete. Just bein' a drama queen."

For some reason, Peter and Gamora exchanged looks. Lylla moved his hand away from the projector before he could react and he froze upon the sight of his internal organs, the ominous red of the liver sending a sanguine glow around the room, making the walls appear pink in colour.

"What the _fuck?"_ Quill's hands went to the back of his head and he fixed his eyes upon the bodyscan.

Gamora's eyes were wide and her actions mirrored Quill's. "Oh my God."

Drax took Gamora and Peter's shoulders, shaking them gently. "This is no time for panicking." he said, his voice clear and stern. "We need to get to Xandar and get this fixed."

"You don't even drink _that_ damn much!"

 _"Oh, if only you'd seen me when I was two, three years old,"_ Rocket thought desperately. "I'm not going to no doctor," he insisted stubbornly.

"This could kill you." Lylla said quietly. "If you leave it untreated, it will."

Rocket shook his head, thinking of scalpels, cutting, the feeling of his intestines and other organs being pulled out, reassembled... "I said no!"

"Why?" Kraglin asked. "What are you so scared of?"

Everyone suddenly shut up, became still. Rocket felt like clawing the idiot's fucking eyes out. "Why," he said very softly so Obfonteri knew just how stupid he was. "Why do you think? What, you think I was _born_ like this?!"

"Sorry. I'm sorry,  I didn't think."

"Fuckin' idiot."

Lylla rested her hand on his wrist. "You and Mantis both need to get rid of your current sicknesses. We'll leave you in peace and once you're well, we will discuss it."

Mantis was curled on her side on one of the beds at the far end of the medbay. She didn't say anything, but as the others left, she opened her enormous eyes and watched him. "What happened to you?"

Rocket crossed his arms and glared at her. "What?"

In answer, she gestured to her own stomach. Rocket groaned and sat against the bodyscanner. "It ain't recent," he confessed. "They think it is, but it's not."

Mantis shuffled off her bed and stepped closer. When he didn't protest, she sat cross-legged, facing him, her hands grasping her ankles. "If you knew...why did you keep it a secret?"

Rocket looked up at the ceiling of the medbay. "I remember being somethin' like seven months old. My creator, he realised that one of my spinal implants were screwed up. He, um...he fixed it. And he did it in the worst damn way you can imagine. Could smell my own flesh burning. And he did things like it all the time, finding something wrong and torturing me until it got fixed. Called himself a doctor." He met Mantis' eyes. "I don't like doctors."

She reached out with her hand, but instead of trying to pet him, she put her palm over the back of his fingers. "We wouldn't let you get hurt by anyone."

"I'm not going to a doctor." Rocket didn't shake off her hand. It felt kinda nice. "I'm not going to die for years. Thing is, they got it in their dumb heads that I'm gonna drop dead any second."

"How long have you known about this illness?"

"Three years."

Mantis' mouth dropped open a little. "That's so long to keep such a secret!"

"It's just one of many." Rocket told her. 

"We would miss you."

"Then that's your problem."

 Her eyes were pleading, as was her voice. "Won't you consider seeing a doctor?"

"Read my lips, woman: _Fuck no._ Got it?" He snatched his hand back. "He always told me that my body belonged to him, that my consent didn't mean shit. Well, he was fuckin' wrong. It's my body and if I'm okay with it dying, then that's my own damn business!" He stared at her, so quiet, so unhurt, so  _innocent_ and hissed; "You don't know what it's like to be told that your body belongs to somebody else!"

Mantis was silent, staring down at her feet. Then she said; "I do know. Ego told me this."

Rocket almost couldn't believe her. Then he remembered Ego, the planet who had killed thousands of his own children and suddenly he could believe her. "What did he do to you?"

"He used my abilities for his own gain." Mantis made eye contact and her black irises were full of pain. "He was not a kind person. He raised me, but I don't think he ever loved me." Softly, she said; "I would have liked to be loved."

"The others do. I can."

She smiled, her eyes turning bright and she reached out a hand. This time, Rocket took it.


	7. Chapter 7

 

" _Let's start with some enhancements, Doc..."_ _Rocket twirled the instrument in his fingers, approaching the Aakon, bound by strong vines that only tightened as he struggled. Groot obligingly brought him to his knees, though Rocket still had to look up to face his creator. "I thought we could start with some basic tests. Remember when you forced my hands into acid, called that a basic test? Remember not so long ago when you threw me two hundred feet to the ground and called that a basic test? Well, I got a few ideas of basic testing myself."_

_"89P13, put down the scalpel. I know this isn't what you really want."_

_"Subject, remain silent or you will be muzzled." Rocket grabbed Gavaar's arm and hooked his claws in, making him grunt in pain. "Hard to stay quiet when you're hurting, I know that,  but you will stop reacting to pain, unless you want to feel more of it, of course..."_

_"I will forgive this nonsense if you stop now and call your friend off."_

_"That's awful good of you, but I'm not looking for forgiveness." Rocket placed the scalpel against Gavaar's neck and began drawing the edges of the blade across his throat, causing the Aakon to swallow delicately. "You, now, you will be_ begging _for it by the time we're done here."_

_"It's not too late. If you stop this, there will be no repercussions."_

_"You think I'm still idiot enough to actually trust you?" Rocket began giggling and dug his claws into Gavaar's shoulder. "You're forgetting. I'm a quick learner, Gax."_

_"What do you want?"_

_"Never asked me that before. I guess what I want is sympathy, from you."  Rocket ripped open the white coat of his creator to reveal a plain grey shirt beneath. "Thing is, you can't give me that until you know exactly what kind of pain you've put me through." He used the scalpel to open up Gavaar's shirt, the paler yellow of his abdomen greeting him, unblemished, with no idea that it was about to be opened up._

_"89P13, this has gone far enough, now stop it!"_

_"Groot," Rocket pointed at the muzzle on the worktop. "Can you pass me that, please?"_

_"You are not muzzling me!"_

_"I sure fucking am!"  Rocket shook the muzzle in front of Gavaar's face. "You know how evil this thing is, you syphilic shit-stain? See how you like it!"  He held it open, looking at it in disgust and fear. In the middle of the leather harness was a cage for his snout to go into and there was a removable piece of metal with barbs. One of Gavaar's favourite ways to punish him was making him hold the barbed bit in his mouth while muzzled, pushed back and secured enough that it felt uncomfortably like it was going to go down his throat. Often, he'd get beaten or whipped around too just to make sure he hurt himself further. "Open up."_

_"No."_

_"DO IT!" Rocket grabbed his jaw and squeezed until his mouth opened. "That is satisfactory behaviour, test subject." He fastened the muzzle around Gavaar's head and smirked. "Suits you. Now I can be certain of you keeping your mouth shut, where were we?" He waved the scalpel around, resting it just under the Aakon's left eyelid. "Oh, yeah. I was just about to teach you a lesson."_

_Gavaar groaned. Orange blood leaked from the tightly pressed corner of his mouth._

_"That's what happens when you try and speak when muzzled, test subject." Rocket pressed the scalpel into the skin of his creator. Amber liquid swelled up around the silver blade. "So that's what feels so good," he remarked calmly as Gavaar squirmed and whimpered beneath his touch. "Been wondering why you did it to me. I wonder if your guts look the same as mine. Maybe that's why you cut me open so many times."_

_"Uh!" Gavaar shook his head. "Uh! Ey I ee uhn 'ree. Oh."_

_"I think that is it. Only fair that I return the favour." Rocket slit down a line directly in the middle of Gavaar's abdomen. "Ain't you proud of me, your little test subject? I'm doing the things you do now!" Gavaar was screaming. Blood poured from his mouth and Rocket caught some on his hands. He stared at them, feeling the warmth, the weird stickiness and then started screaming too. He began hitting Gavaar's chest, using his fists at first, but the smell of blood, the rage, the neverending agony of his young life took over and he began using his claws to rake through the flesh, severing muscle as easily as running his fingers through water. He must have used his teeth at some point because the taste of blood filled his mouth and he stopped to spit several times to make sure he didn't swallow anything he didn't want inside him. Then the anger subsided and he looked at what he had done._  
_Gax Gavaar had never looked so powerless. Groot didn't even need to hold him down any more. Bone showed through gaping holes in his body, his frame was bowed over and he looked up, his tear-filled hazel eyes meeting Rocket's brown. For some reason, tears filled Rocket's own eyes and he looked down, feeling the liquid trace down his cheeks. He didn't understand why he was crying, he wasn't in pain or sad, but quiet sobs accompanied his tears and he grabbed up the scalpel before looking at the man who had raised him. "I hate you." Using the scalpel, he sliced away the muzzle, getting splattered with blood as Gavaar coughed. "I hate you."_

_"No, you don't. You hate what I did to you."_

_"You must hate me too."_

_"Never."_

_"You took away the only person who ever cared about me. Did she love me, my mother?"_

_"She was an animal."_

_The rage was still there. Rocket swiped a handful of flesh from Gavaar's shoulder. "Did she fucking love me?"_

_"What difference does it make?"_

_Using three claws, Rocket scratched his creator's neck. "Answer the fuckin' question!"_

_"Yes!" Gavaar screamed as though the truth physically hurt him._

_"Then why did you kill her?" Rocket needed an answer. If he'd had his mother, things would have been different. Someone would have loved him. "Why did you never tell me she existed? You said you made me."_

_"I did make you."_

_"No. All you did was make my life hell. What you're feeling now is nothing." Nothing compared to the countless beatings, the electrical shocks, the painful tests, the numberless surgeries, the hunger and, occasionally, dehydration._

_"It was never anything personal."_

_"You made it personal, Gavaar!" The tears were gone and the low throb of rage thrummed inside Rocket's chest. "You took away everything from me before I could even talk. You tortured me everyday as long as I can remember!"_

_"The best way you learn is through pain." Gavaar had to speak carefully to avoid causing additional pain to his tongue. "That's not my fault. It's just the way you are."_

_Making sure Groot wasn't listening for fear his friend would lose his own temper and kill the Aakon before he could, Rocket looked into Gavaar's eyes. "Did you ever feel anything while I was lying in a broken heap, bleeding and crying out for you to stop, to understand that I didn't mean to fuck up?"_

_Gavaar let blood dribble from his mouth before speaking. "I've told you, I'm not a sadist. I didn't like to make you cry."_

_Rocket wrapped his arms around himself, remembering those satisfied looks after whatever method of penalty his creator had chosen. "That's not what I'm asking. That's not even true, damn you. I could see that look in your eyes. You loved it, you sick bastard."_

_"I needed to get the message through." Somehow, the Aakon made eye contact with him. "Everything was for your benefit. Every single little thing. It would have been easier to hijack your brain and make you mindless, but...I wanted you to have a mind of your own. I didn't want you to be just a thing, rather than a person."_

"He considers me a person?" _Rocket could hardly believe that._

_"You know, when you were born, when I held you in my hands...I knew you could be invincible. I just wanted to ensure you could protect yourself."_

_Gavaar's words were wearing him down, but Rocket knew what would happen if he chose to be weak. "That's what I'm doing now," he said, but he couldn't hide the uncertain tone of his voice._

_Gavaar knew. He knew that Rocket was one step away from believing him, freeing him. "You were asking if I care about you. I do. Your wellbeing has always been so important to me."_

_That wasn't true. It couldn't be true. Rocket jumped onto the surgery table, close to the tray of medical instruments. He looked up into the hazel eyes of his creator. "What am I worth to you?" Groot's creator - rather, his dad - had thought he was worth dying for. He had to know if his creator thought the same._

_"A hundred thousand units."_

_"You know, 89P09 probably would have said that I was worth dyin' for." Picking up a knife, Rocket walked to the edge of the table. "All you care about, all you ever cared about, was the money I could have made you." He jumped  onto a vine that held his creator steady and soon they were at eye level. "I'm going to kill you."_

_"I doubt it."_

_Rocket raised the knife and  slashed it through the air, but something stopped him. The sharp edge of the blade tickled Gavaar's throat, but nothing came of it. He pressed down on the delicate skin, but nothing happened. He could hear Gavaar chuckling softly and glared at him. "You don't get to win," he told him and he stabbed the knife into each of his eyes._

_Gavaar's laughter turned to howls of agony. "You little monster!"_

_"There's no need for this emotional response, test subject. You're alright." Rocket rammed the knife into Gavaar's shoulder and left it there, breaking contact with his creator for the last time as he jumped to the ground, eliciting more screams from  the Aakon._

_"Little monster!"_

* * *

Rocket shivered as he awoke from the dream. Only it wasn't a dream. Not for him. He licked his hands, even though he knew they were clean and his ears pricked up as he heard Mantis laughing. He could see Quill and Drax beside her and by the looks of things, she was being given the okay to get out of the medbay.

Rocket hoped to hell that they didn't mean to try and keep _him_ in the d'ast place. Two hands, small as his, gripped the edge of the bed and Lylla's arm came into view. Rocket helped drag her up so she could sit by him. "About damn time."

"You are so impatient."

Rocket pointed at Mantis. "If she's okay to go, so am I."

"She is not as sick as you are." Lylla's eyes fixed themselves on an area just below his ribcage. "I cannot believe we all thought you were just dramatizing. What if you had believed us?"

"Wouldn't have made no difference."

"What do you mean?"

"He didn't tell me nothin' about how my body worked, you know. Just changed it when he wanted to and let me deal with the fallout." Rocket hugged his knees close to his chest and looked Lylla in the eyes. "I'm broke. I've been broke for years."

"Since leaving that place?"

Rocket shook his head. "After. I did this to myself, Lylla. I fucked up and screwed myself over. Didn't even know I was doin' it. Remember when I used to drink so damn much?"

"That was nearly three years ago."

"I know. I got four years left in me, tops."

"Why did you not tell me?"

"I didn't want to."

Lylla looked into his eyes with her wide, dark ones, worry etched onto her delicate features. "You can tell me anything. You can come to me for anything. You know that."

"I'm sorry."

Lylla looked at Peter and Drax who were still focused on Mantis, unknowing of the conversation between the two cyborgs. "Do you plan to tell them?"

"No. Maybe I can tell 'em the bodyscanner is fucked up."

"Then what? Are you going to let them find your body someday?"

"What other choice do I have?"

"The only other option is accepting medical help." He could tell by the look in Lylla's eyes that she knew that this was not so much an option as an impossibility. "And that is not something you could easily do."

"It's not something I can ever do."

"You told me that when you watched me wire up a bomb for the first time, remember?" Lylla smiled, showing her pointed teeth. "But you learned. You surpassed my skills. There is not much that you cannot do. But a hospital, doctors, that would be too much for either of us."

Mantis laughed, a soft, bubbly sound. Rocket looked over. Drax was helping her to stand, his large hands gentle as they held her light frame. He thought of how badly it had hurt when he had seen Groot die. How something had twisted painfully upon seeing Yondu's corpse. How some warning really would have been fucking appreciated. "Am I bein' a dick to keep it from 'em?"

"Do you want my honest opinion?"

"I guess."

"I would not say you were being a dick, but I think it is unfair. Especially on Groot."

"I can't tell him. Not yet." Rocket looked toward Peter who was grinning like a moron and Drax who was laughing away at something. "But I can tell them." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I am away on holiday as of tomorrow, this is the last one for a week! I promise you all that this will be resumed upon my return and if you have any questions in the meantime, fire away and I'll answer them!   
> Thank you for all your support and I hope you've been enjoying it so far! 
> 
> ~ DoTM


	8. Chapter 8

Drax was a simple man. Not in the manner of someone who was stupid, but was rather a guy with no complexities, no concerns at being faced with silence. But he was still a father. And Rocket now knew better than anyone that fathers _know_ when their children are struggling. Drax knew now that there was something with Rocket. It was clear by the way he watched him with eyes as blue as the Xandarian sky. He reached out an enormous hand and rubbed the back of his ear. Rocket, in turn, knew that Drax was trying to coax him into opening up. It wasn't damn fair that the man was so good at ear scratches. Sometimes Rocket suspected Drax did them on purpose. "You know my liver is fucked up, right?"

"I am aware." Drax agreed. "I saw the scan."

"Thing is, Drax, it's not news to me. I've known for a long time."

Drax stopped dead. Rocket turned his head to see that Drax's face was emotionless, but his eyes were not. They were full of hurt. "How can you have known for a long time? We only discovered it yesterday."

"It's been like it for years."

Drax put his hands on his lap. "How many?"

"Three. I have four years left." 

"And you are content with this?" 

No. He wanted more time with the lunatics he had grown to love. He wanted to see his son to adulthood. He wanted to live. "What other choice do I have?"

"It could be saved. There are ways."

Rocket shook his head. "Not for me, there ain't."

"Why?"

Rocket sighed. "Don't ask me that, Drax. You know exactly why."

Drax lowered his head. "I do not appreciate losing my kin."

"Yeah, well, I don't like having a failed vital organ, but here I am."

Drax moved his eyes toward him for a brief moment and then got to his feet from where he had been sitting on the medbay bed. "I need time by myself. I'll come back.. " 

"Drax-"

Drax didn't say anything. He paused to rub the back of Rocket's head, similar to how both showed affection to Groot, and then walked away, leaving the lingering sensation of simultaneous love and anguish. 

* * *

 _"Three years?"_ Gamora paced back and forth, her footsteps loud as she walked. "You've known about this for _years_ and you chose to keep it from us? Why? How could you do that? What was your endgame? You were going to let us find you dead?"

It was more than safe to say that Gamora wasn't best pleased about it. "Gamora, I'll be completely truthful. That was the original plan."

Gamora stopped in her tracks and fixed him with a deathly glare. Realising that he hadn't been being flippant, she walked to the bed and crouched down, her arms crossed over the mattress for balance. It felt strange, being at eye level with the powerful assassin. "What changed?"

"I couldn't do it to you. The only thing worse than losin' someone you love is having no idea you're going to lose 'em." Thinking of Groot with his endless supply of love, of Yondu who had died for his child, Rocket added; "I know that."

"I am not losing you."

"It's too late."

"It's not. I took another look at that scan. You have years left. Enough time to get the organ removed and use an alternative in its place."

"Enough of me is made of metal. More than enough."

Gamora paused. She understood. He could see by the way her tense shoulders slightly loosened that she understood. Her tone softened. "You had surgeries in terrible conditions. I get it."

"Do you remember any of your surgeries?"

Gamora shook her head.

"Exactly."

"I know you're scared." Her voice was kind. "Fear can make us do dangerous, insane things. Like going single-handedly after an entire planet because you think someone you love is going to die." She managed a smile and he soon learned that she wasn't angry with him for what he had done to her on Ego's planet. "And love can make us do brave, insane things. Like shooting the most dangerous woman in the galaxy because you love her and the guy she was going to try to save too much to lose either of them."

He knew what she was getting at. He knew very well. And she was right. He did love them, to the point he would kill himself for any of them. But he couldn't forget. "I can't. The only way I'll ever go under another knife is if I'm killed first."

Gamora watched him closely and then touched his wrist briefly. "Then we will find a way. We won't stop searching for something to mend this."

"I don't think there is anything."

Gamora fixed him with dark, determined eyes. "We _will_ find something."

* * *

Dammit. This was going to be the hardest one of all, especially now Peter was finally yowling along to the songs again. He pressed the pause button on the Zune, snapping Peter out of his impromptu singing session.

"Dude, what the hell? I was hitting the high notes!"

"You sounded like someone was stomping on your ballsack."

"Jerk."

"Pete, there's something you oughta know."

"What's that?"

"I already knew what was goin' on with my liver before the scan."

Peter turned his head to look at him so swiftly that Rocket feared it would snap. "What do you mean, you knew?"

"It's failed when I was around four years old. Been on a long-term drug for the past three years and it was meant to last seven. You got me for four more years."

Peter was silent. The kind of silence that usually resulted in both of them yelling at each other for hours on end. "And you think four years is long enough?"

"It's gonna have to be."

"It's not."

Rocket looked at Peter. Peter looked at him. Rocket crossed his arms. "It's no use you poutin' at me, Quill. No doctors means no hospital. No hospital means no surgery."

"Goddammit, Rocket, you need to get this fixed."

"No!"

"Yes!"

"You do not get to make this choice for me, you douchebag!"

"I'm not trying to make a choice for you! How many times do I have to tell you that I am not that thing who hurt you?!"

"Then what _are_ you doing?"

"You have a family now! A family you can stay with, a family to _live_ for! This can be fixed!"

"I don't want it to be fixed!"

Peter made a sound caught between a growl of frustration and a groan of despair. He jumped up from where he had been sitting cross-legged on the bed and put his hands behind his head. If Rocket had to guess, he'd have said Quill was doing his damnedest to avoid throwing shit around. "They couldn't fix my mom's brain, but they can fix your liver. So why do I have to watch someone else I love die?"

"Pete..."

"It's not just me. It's Gamora, Drax, Groot-"

"I had to watch _him_ die!"

"Not _this_ one! You have a baby, a _son_ , and you're okay with just leavin' him?!"

"He has you!"

"You're his fucking _dad!_ The first of any of us who he saw, the first one to speak to him. The first one to tell him he was loved. It will break him to lose you."

"Yeah, well, if his deadbeat twig donor hadn't broken me, he wouldn't even be here."

"I don't want Groot to hurt like..." Peter gestured to himself. "Like this. And you...I love you, man. I don't want to lose you."

Rocket looked down at his hands. "Can you forgive me, Pete?"

Peter made eye contact. Just as Rocket was beginning to think the answer would be 'no', he put his arms down and went back to the bed, sitting beside him. "Yeah, Rock. I can." One arm he draped around his shoulders and Rocket could see the wetness of his tears making his eyes shine. He held onto Peter's fingers to try and help him feel better and was taken by some surprise when the humanoid bowed his head and started crying. Rocket had only ever seen him cry like it when he had brought Yondu into the Quadrant. Peter's arm took itself from around his shoulders and he almost curled up where he was sitting, his strong shoulders shaking with the force of his tears.

Rocket didn't know what to do. He tried petting his head, but if anything, it only worsened the situation. He put an arm around as most of Peter's shoulders as he could reach and hoped for the best. Without warning, Peter reached out an arm in an almost grabbing motion. He only wanted a hug and ordinarily that would be okay, but right now the last thing Rocket wanted was to be held onto. "No, Quill!"

"Sorry." And, dammit, he really was sorry too. He probably needed a hug, but instead of pursuing the topic, he took in several deep breaths, holding his hands together. "I'm sorry."

"Okay." Rocket sat back beside him. "You know, you've still got me for a few years, Quill."

"I know." Peter sniffed and looked back at him, his eyes red and puffed. "I just wasn't planning on saying goodbye to anyone else so damn soon." 


	9. Chapter 9

Rocket had barely spent five minutes in his own cabin when the door was thudded  loudly, alerting him to the fact that someone wanted his attention. "What do you want, Quill?" It could be guaranteed that the man had broken something by dancing at it. 

"It's me." Obfonteri informed him, sounding slightly unimpressed at Rocket's mistake. "Let me in, would you? I wanna talk."

And Rocket knew what about. He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Do what you want."

"That's what I like to hear." 

The first thing Rocket noticed about Kraglin was a dark patch on his shoulder. He pointed. "What the hell happened there?" 

Kraglin stood a distance away from him, arms crossed. "Is it true you're dyin'?" 

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes, it is true. So what?"

Kraglin tapped the dark patch. "When I got Pete cryin' on my shoulder like he just saw Yondu die all over again, it is my damn business."

"It's not my fault if Quill gets hormonal about this!" Rocket snapped. He could still hear Peter's cries, both for Rocket's future and Yondu's death.

Kraglin stepped closer. The arrow was attached to his belt and Rocket remembered witnessing it fly through the air, killing men quicker than he could fire a bullet. Kraglin followed his gaze and unclipped the arrow, crouching down to hand it to him. "Here."

It wasn't the same after being broken into so many pieces. But it worked, it could fly, it could kill. He sat on the floor, holding it in both hands. He could sense Kraglin sitting beside him and kept his eyes on the arrow . "I'm not getting cut open again."

Kraglin watched the arrow, but didn't take it back when Rocket offered it to him. "Y'know, he never admitted it to nobody, but Yondu was real scared when we went up against Ronan. Guy was a Kree. The Kree tortured the hell out of Yondu for kicks, told him he was owned and for a time, he was. Even after nearly forty years of freedom an' powers, after havin' a boy of his own, the Kree were people he did his damnedest to avoid. 'Specially in battle."

"Didn't strike me as the kind of guy to hide away from people."

"You're doin' exactly the same thing. Him and the Kree. You and doctors. Only thing is that Yondu faced up to those fears. He did it for Pete. Did it 'cause his boy wanted his help. Did it so he could try to keep 'im alive."

"What's this got to to with keeping Peter alive?" 

"Wasn't talking about Pete. I was talkin' about Groot."

Rocket glared angrily at him. "Don't you bring Groot into this!" 

"Somebody has to!" Obfonteri turned to face him better and rested his hands on his knees. "You and I both know how battle slaves get treated. Yondu knew better than anybody and he still agreed to help fight against Ronan, without a split second of doubt 'cause Pete asked him to do it. He knew damn well what was gonna happen when he saved Pete, but he did it 'cause his boy needed him. Your boy needs you."

"I'm not going under another knife, got it?"

"It's not like it was when you was _there_ , Rocket. They knock you out, they give you pain relief. They take pretty good damn care of people in hospitals."

Rocket got to his feet to try and look Kraglin directly in the eyes. "I am not getting surgery!" He shoved the arrow back at him and crossed his arms around his body. "I'm not going through it again."

Kraglin shook his head, standing up from the floor. He replaced the arrow and then looked at him again. "All you're doin' here is letting that motherfuckin' son of a bitch win. The only reason you're scared of surgery is 'cause you're scared of the memories and you're scared of him. Rocket, I don't think you realised yet that you ain't in that lab no more."

"Of course I know that!"

"Really? You don't like rules 'cause to you, they're just there to control you. You don't tell people you're sick or dyin'  'cause you think it'll mean losing control of your own body again. You keep secrets and you lie 'cause you think that if anyone finds out the truth, they'll just hurt you." Kraglin nodded grimly when Rocket remained briefly silent. "You may have escaped that lab, but some of you never really left it."

Rocket seized a nearby blaster and pointed it at him in warning, though both knew he wouldn't pull the trigger. _"Get fucking out!"_

Kraglin pressed the pad to unlock the door. "Just think about what I said." 

Like hell he would. Who did that jerk think he was? He didn't know half of what he'd been through. Giving trust to someone was so much harder than fighting against them. Surely even Kraglin had to understand that. Rocket parted the fur on his left arm. Scars were still visible even after all these years. They were never going to fade and there were others on every part of his body. Not one piece of him had been unchanged or unhurt. The Aakon had damaged him, but Rocket had been the one to hand himself a death sentence. Now there were many people he was hurting. His family, his mentor, his son. 

Only good thing about this situation was that Groot didn't know that Rocket was dying yet.

_"No, Groot! You can't. You'll die. Why are you doing this?"_

Rocket flinched at the unwelcome memory. His last ever sight of his best friend, of him looking at the all with love in his eyes. Love that had been all his, once. Love from one who had witnessed a baby being orphaned and had decided to take on the role of protector. Not a parent. But someone to rely on. Someone to trust. Someone to love. 

So, how could he possibly leave Groot's son?

_"You don't get to win."_

Kraglin, the bastard, was right. Rocket was allowing Gavaar to beat him. Hell, he had been all of his life.  He couldn't keep letting the Aakon win. 

_"I know who you are, boy, because you're me."_

Rocket sighed and looked directly up at the ceiling. _God help him._ "Okay, Yondu. Time to be you."

* * *

"Okay," Rocket skimmed his eyes around the room to ensure no baby Flora Colossi were around to hear his announcement and then turned his attention to his family. "I'm gonna do it. I'll get surgery and fix this useless lump of meat that calls itself a liver." he looked up at Kraglin whose eyes were wide with disbelief, a smile beginning to grow on his lips. "You were right, Obfonteri."

"You mean it?" 

Rocket met Peter's eyes. "Yes, Quill. I mean it. I do have conditions-" 

"Yes." 

Rocket blinked at him. "Yes to what? You don't even know what they are yet. I could be asking for _anything_ here."

"I don't care what it is. I never thought I'd hear you agree to getting your liver fixed."

Gamora smiled patiently. "What conditions?" 

"First of all, I want at least two of you in that room with me. Second of all, I want drugs. Thirdly, I want to be completely knocked out during the entire procedure. And, lastly, I want music playing."

"Agreed." Gamora rubbed his shoulder briefly. "I'm glad you came to this conclusion."

"Only took me three years."

"Okay." Peter lightly clapped his hands together. "First thing, once we get to Xandar, is we find their hospital and we tell 'em the situation and -" 

"And then it's' cut-open-Rocket' time."

Quill tilted his head in a nod. Then he looked at him intently. "Do you want to do it sooner instead of later or..?"

"If I don't do it now, I never will." Rocket crossed his arms and looked down. "I don't want to die. I just wanna get this stupid thing over and done with before it kills me."

"And you are quite certain that this is the course of action you wish to take?" 

Rocket nodded his head. "Yes, Drax. I'm as sure as I'll ever be." 

* * *

Rocket stood in the doorway of his workshop. It was steadily becoming _their_ workshop - his and Lylla's - but that was okay. It reminded him of happy days when Groot was alive and how Lylla had patiently walked him through the steps of building explosives. She was building an aero rig for their emergency stash and it was a far cry from her usual work, but judging by the speed of how she was putting the thing together, it was nothing she couldn't handle. "You been avoiding me or something, Lylla?" 

Lylla put down her tools and reached for her pad. "No."

"Ever since I said I was gonna get that op, I haven't seen you. You gonna tell me what's wrong?" 

Lylla sighed and sat down on an unturned box that served as a stool. "When we arrive at Xandar, I will be be staying there."

Rocket stared at her. "Why? Is it Mantis? Quill's singing? Is it me?" 

Lylla shook her head and pointed at a nearby box. "It is not any of you," she said. "It is this ship. I do not suit life onboard a spacecraft."

"Is this about the time you gave me such bad food poisoning I thought I was dying? Because I'm over that-"

"No." Lylla watched him sit and held her hands together. "Do you remember how you felt when you flew out of that place?" 

She meant Halfworld. Rocket looked at his own hands. "Sure do. Never felt so alive."

"I was pregnant." Lylla gestured to her middle. "Then I was not. Then I ran out of fuel. Then I was surrounded by Ravagers. Do you understand now what I mean?" 

"I didn't realise." Rocket glanced at her abdomen. "I...thought you raised your pups. You said..."

"I raised my first litter. I did not raise my second and that is all I am willing to say on the matter."

"Lylla... I'm sorry." He'd not known what a nightmare she'd had. 

Lylla lowered her head. "I will say this on the matter. I escaped for my pups. I tried to keep them safe by taking them out of danger. It was all I could do, you know? That place was not good for an adult. It was clearly even worse for children." 

"You did all you could. Parents protect their kids and you tried to protect yours. No matter what happened, you're still their mom." Rocket thought of 89P09. "A really good mom."

Lylla huffed softly. "I still remember the first time I saw you. This tiny little thing, barely a foot tall. I could have fit you inside my pouch."

"I really wouldn't recommend that now."

"Good because I was not making a suggestion." Lylla shuffled forward a little. "I hoped by teaching you all I knew, you could protect yourself when Groot couldn't. I didn't think to teach you how to care for yourself. And all this time, you were dying and I did not know."

"That wasn't your fault. And you did protect me with what you taught me. Never could have taken out a Celestial if I didn't know you." A slight exaggeration, but Lylla needed it. 

"I thought they had enhanced all your organs like they did mine."

"He only enhanced my heart and my lungs. Everything else is the original version." At least he thought so. 

"I am sorry I did not tell you how to take care of your body. Even though you were so young and so vulnerable, I did not think there was any need to teach you those things."

"Lylla." Rocket touched her wrist, calloused by old burns and scars. "Quit blaming yourself. I did this to me. It's getting fixed. It's all going to be alright."

"How can you possibly go through with this?" 

"Groot needs me."

Lylla pulled her hand up and squeezed his fingers with her own. "You are a good father to him."

"Not always." Rocket admitted, remembering when he had been so frightened about his past that he had, however briefly, abandoned his son. 

"When it counts, you are. Despite whatever that thing told you, you do not need to be perfect."

"Whatever happens, Groot's worth it." And the others he called his family. Including the Lontra who had not turned him away despite the bad memories he must have brought her when he'd turned up on her world. 

Lylla looked at him. She smiled. "Of course he is."


	10. Chapter 10

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We will be arriving in Xandar in precisely T minus fifteen minutes-"

"We're literally all here, Quill." Rocket interrupted. He had Groot on his lap, sharing a seatbelt with him, one hand holding his son's and the other on the steering throttle. 

"Just making sure everyone knew." Peter looked over at Groot and he smiled softly. "You excited, little guy?" 

Groot nodded and his large brown eyes widened as the curve of the blue planet loomed into view. "I am Groot?" _'What is this place?'_

"Xandar." Gamora answered. There was a brief hush. Even she looked surprised. 

"You understand his language!" Rocket grinned at her. "How did you know-?" 

"I don't know! I guess.. He was looking at Xandar and he sounded curious, so I guessed. What did he say?"

"He was asking what this place is called. This is great. He won't just have to rely on only me any more. When I -" Rocket stopped and looked down at Groot. He still hadn't told his son about anything. He just couldn't. "It'll be good for him. Won't it, kid?" 

"I am Groot?" _'Yeah! So, why are we in Xandar?'_

"We're here so we can make sure everyone is okay." 

"Everybody secure yourselves." Gamora called. She pulled out a strap from the wall and wrapped it over her middle. "We may have a bumpy landing."

"Yeah, especially if Quill lands."

"Thanks, Rocket. I'm so glad I have your undying loyalty and support-" 

"You do, I'm just being honest."

"How's about you squabble like a pair of ten year old boys later?" Kraglin interrupted. "Hmm?" 

"Where's the fun in that?" Rocket asked, but he took Kraglin's advice onboard as he and Peter brought the ship through the Xandarian atmosphere. For Lylla's sake, he made sure they took it slowly. It was no secret that both she and he had crash-landed upon their first Xandarian visits and he didn't want to risk triggering her by crashing the Quadrant, even if it was only a little crash. 

The Quadrant landed with no more than a bump and Groot unbuckled the seatbelt eagerly. "I am Groot!" _'Daddy, we're finally here!'_

Rocket looked across to the Nova Headquarters, feeling the muscles of his ears relax in anticipation. "Yeah, we're here."

Groot climbed onto his shoulder and held out his arms for Mantis. She picked him up, smiling before pressing kisses to his forehead. "May I take Groot outside so he can enjoy the sunlight?" 

"Yeah, sure." Rocket didn't want to get up. He was afraid, illogically, that once he stepped foot outside the Quadrant, he would be dragged straight into a hospital, carved up, messed around with and then left in agony. It was stupid. But he didn't know how else to feel. "I'll catch you guys up."

Peter nodded. "Okay. Gamora, Drax and I'll go find Nova Prime. We'll come back here in a couple hours."

They hadn't mentioned Lylla. She stepped closer and then jumped onto the enormous seat Rocket was sitting on, sitting just far enough away to avoid stifling him. "Were you planning on visiting Groot?" 

Rocket jumped at the mention of his best friend's name. Groot, Groot, how could he have forgotten? "Yeah," he answered softly. 

"Will you take me? Please?"

It had been more than long enough. He'd not sat by Groot's graveside since before their son had been born. Rocket nodded his head. "Okay. Come on."

* * *

Despite Ego, the Xandarian apple tree still stood strong, its golden fruit gleaming in the light of Xandar's three suns. And, just a couple of feet away, buried under fertile soil, lay Rocket's best friend. Both he and Lylla stood quietly by the grave and watched it solemnly, like Groot could and would suddenly burst his way through the earth. 

"I miss him."

"I know." Lylla touched his wrist gently. "I know, Rocket."

"You know how much I love that little kid, though?" 

"Yes, I do know." Lylla put her arm around his shoulder. "I should have called you more often."

"I should've told you I had a kid." Rocket huffed out something like a laugh. "God knows what you must've been thinking when Peter called you up because I was hidin' away in my room."

"That is nothing to be ashamed of." 

"Parents are supposed to be brave."

"Bravery takes many forms." Lylla got him to look into her eyes. "You are being brave for him. I could never even consider what you're going to do."

"Am I making a mistake?" 

Lylla shook her head. "You are trusting your family and doing what is best for your son. This is not a mistake."

"Do you think they'll really be there in the operating room?" 

"They gave their word."

"Yeah, that's true." Rocket held his hands together and looked directly at the tree. He could hear himself frantically telling Groot that he loved him, muffled, like it was bleeding through the ground. "Why is it so hard to tell people when you love them?" 

"It is harder for you because of circumstances beyond your control." Lylla looked down and sighed. "And you weren't raised with love."

"I had Groot. Didn't raise me, but he taught me how it feels to love someone."

"He certainly did."

"And then he taught me how it feels to lose someone and I never felt pain like it before. Didn't know what to do with myself. Probably wouldn't be alive now if it wasn't for Drax, Gamora, Peter." Rocket looked Lylla in her eyes. "I'm not just doing this for Groot."

"For them, too."

"And you."

"I appreciate it. I will always remember the day you both crash-landed into my life. It was one of the more happier days since I was taken from my home planet."

"Same for us both." Rocket gestured to the grave. "He really liked you."

"I liked him too." Lylla released him and stooped to pick a flower from the grassy soil. "I'll be closeby to him when you and the others go on your next venture. We'll keep each other company."

Rocket smiled at his mentor. "He'll like that."

* * *

They met Gamora and Peter returning to the Quadrant, Quill's arm looped around Gamora's shoulders. Neither appeared particularly unhappy, but it was clear that Xandar hadn't escaped unscathed. 

"Couple of thousand people in Xandar died in the Expansion." Quill said by way of greeting. "Could've been a lot worse." Despite his light tone, it was obvious that he blamed himself for those hundreds of deaths. He went back inside the Quadrant, leaving Gamora with Rocket and Lylla. 

"He blames himself," Gamora confirmed without needing to be asked. "You should have seen his face when Nova Prime informed him what had happened here."

"That man has a habit of worrying too much." Rocket said, shaking his head.

"What can you expect? He is Terran. Earth people have a tendency to fall apart at the slightest provocation."

Gamora met the Lontra's eyes. "Lylla, thousands of people died."

"I was nearly one of them. I lost my home because of the Expansion, if you will remember. I think I have a right to say that he should not be blaming himself for the crimes of his father."

"I know, but you can understand why he's upset." Gamora sighed softly as she looked at the Quadrant. "I'm going to go find Drax. Kraglin took him off to some park he used to visit as a kid. Maybe they can help talk sense into Peter."

"I will come with you." Lylla offered. "Rocket, will you be coming with us?" 

"Nah, I'll catch you guys up." Rocket waved the two women off and headed inside the Quadrant. One thing was for sure - he couldn't, in good conscience, allow his friend to wallow in guilt that he didn't deserve. He found the Terran exactly where he thought he would - curled up in a ball on his bed. "Pete?" 

"Nightstand."

"I'm not here for music."

"Then what?"

Rocket shrugged and then realised Quill couldn't exactly see him. He pulled himself onto the bed and shook Peter's arm for his attention. "You're being ridiculous."

Peter opened an eye and stared up at him. _"I'm_ being ridiculous? How am I being ridiculous?" 

"You're lying in this bed like a teenage girl, telling yourself that it's your fault Ego killed people. It's ridiculous."

"No, it's not! You don't get it - he used _me_ to kill those people. If I wasn't alive,  none of this would have happened." Quill rolled onto his back and rubbed his forehead with his fingers. 

"Peter," Rocket stepped a little closer so he could still look into his captain's eyes. "You're an even bigger idiot than I thought."

"What do you mean?" 

"You didn't ask to be born. Same as you didn't know he was going to try to destroy the universe. Like you said, it could have been a lot worse."

"People still died. Didn't matter what we did, families were still ripped apart." Peter looked up at the ceiling, no longer wanting to look Rocket in the eyes. 

"You didn't kill them. Come on, Quill! You're doing exactly what I did after we lost Groot. Ego was a full-blooded Celestial. He overpowered you and that is not your fault."

Peter glanced his direction and then managed to maintain eye contact. "I just wish we could've done more to save those people."

"Think of the billions still livin', not the thousands we couldn't save." Universally, there were probably _billions_ who had died, but trillions more had been saved. Thinking of the dead was important, but the ones who were living had to come first. 

Quill clearly knew that too because he didn't try to argue. He did close his eyes again, but Rocket liked to think he looked a lot more peaceful now. "When did you get so damn smart?" 

"I've always been smart. You've just never listened."

"What? You're the one who doesn't listen."

"It's a learned trait, Quill."

"Oh my God..." Peter rolled his eyes and looked up at the ceiling again. "You're impossible to have a serious conversation with."

"Sure, _I'm_ the one. Are we sleeping in here tonight or what?" 

Quill opened his eyes and then sat up. "I spend one more night on this ship and I'll go crazy." 

"Good, 'cause so would I and everyone else. Get your ass up, grab the Zune and let's find somewhere decent."


	11. Chapter 11

_"Where is pain meds? Gax?"_

_"You'll be fine."_

_89P13 flinched as the loud shaver buzzed angrily over his chest. All of the sparse fur was cut away and he could see the paleness of his flesh, marked by past surgeries. The cold pressure of a marker made lines over his skin and he shivered. "Gax,_ need _meds!"_

_"Do you remember that shot you had? It means you don't need the expense of pain meds any longer."_

_89P13 was confused. He'd not asked why he was given the shot or what its purpose was. He had only known that there was a grape in it for him and that alone had been enough motivation  for him to comply with the shot being done, even though it had hurt and made him feel strange afterwards. "Can no longer feel pain?"_

_"Mmm." Gax shook his head. "I wouldn't say that. Simply put, it means that whatever you die from, it won't be pain."_

_89P13 started to piece together this new information. He tried pulling his arms free, even though it had never, ever worked before. "No, Gax, no! Need meds! Please, need meds!"_

_"Keep still."_

_"Gax, no! Please, Gax! No do it! Please no do it! Please, meds!"_

_"You don't need them any more. Think of this as practise for when you're bought by your new owners."_

_"No want to! Stop, Gax!"_

_"Shh." Gax pressed a button and 89P13 felt his arms stretch so much that he feared they might pop out of their sockets. "That's good," he remarked when 89P13's pleas quietened to a low whimper. "Try to keep your volume low. This is important. I can't be distracted."_

_All 89P13 wanted to do, as the scalpel came nearer to his exposed flesh, was cover his eyes. All he could do was close them and, as the blade's edge cut into his skin, he began to scream..._

* * *

Rocket sat up shaking and panting. His hands were free and he put them over his eyes as he had been unable to do on that operating table all those years ago. 

"I am Groot?" _'Daddy?'_

Rocket forced himself to look at his son. Tried to act normal. "Hey, buddy. What are you doing awake?" 

"I am Groot." _'You kept crying and saying no to someone.'_

Ah, shit. Rocket held out an arm and cradled Groot as the infant settled himself on his lap. "Daddy just had a dumb dream. Everything is fine."

"I am Groot?" _'Who's Gax?'_

Rocket jumped at the mention of his creator's name. "Forget about the stupid dream, Groot! I told you, it was nothing, okay?" 

"I am Groot." _'Your ear is flicking.'_

"Then don't freakin' look at it.'

Groot crossed his arms and huffed. "I am Groot!" _'I'm only trying to help!'_

He really was his father's son. Rocket rubbed his back gently. "I know. It's just... It's a grownup thing."

"I am Groot!" _'Then you should tell a grownup!'_

"I _am_  a grownup!"

Groot sighed and glowered up at him like a mini-Gamora.  "I am Groot!" _'Tell_ another _grownup, you dumbass!'_

Rocket stared at him. "Hey! I'm not going to be called a dumbass by my own son! Where the fuck do you even learn these words?" 

"I am Groot." _'Everyone, Dad.'_

"Bunch of frickin' degenerates. I'm gonna be having words with those morons."

"I am Groot!" _'I learned nearly all of them from you, Daddy!'_  

"You can't have learned most of them from me! I rarely curse in front of you."

"I am Groot!" _'Dad, it's true! I swear I'm not lying!'_

Rocket patted his tiny back. "I know that. You may have a filthy mouth, but you ain't no liar." Not that Groot really had anything to seriously lie about, but still. "How you liking Xandar so far, kid?" 

"I am Groot!" _'I love it! Aunt 'Tis took me swimming in the fountains!'_  

Rocket sighed internally. Swimming in fountain water was just as bad as drinking the stuff in his opinion. Not that Mantis had thought to ask, clearly. "You gotta be careful in those fountains, Groot. You might catch an ear infection."

"I am Groot?" _'I want to go swimming again, Daddy. Can we?'_

"Sure we can. Somewhere you're actually meant to swim in, like a lake or something."

"I am Groot!" _'All of us!'_

Rocket looked very seriously into Groot's eyes. "On one condition," he said. "Quill can't wear those speedo things he keeps braggin' about."

* * *

"Where are you guys going?" 

Before Rocket even had the chance to breathe, Lylla explained: "Somewhere closeby is a junkyard full of pieces from destroyed spaceships and...weaponry. We are going to try and find some pieces."

"And you're taking Groot?" Quill gestured to the sapling, who was sitting on Lylla's shoulder. "Aren't you a little worried?" 

"We're gonna teach him how to wire explosives later on."

Quill paled. "You can't be serious! He's not even a year old yet-" 

Lylla pointed at Rocket. "Neither was he when I taught him."

"Don't worry, Quill. Groot is in perfectly safe hands with us!" 

Peter relented with a soft sigh. "Fine." He looked directly at Rocket and rubbed his smooth jawbone. "Any chance you could reschedule, Rock? There's someone I'd really like you to meet."

In the sixteen days they'd been in Xandar, Peter had largely left him to his own devices, so Rocket decided to forego the day trip out with Lylla. He almost missed the Terran goofball, not that he would ever tell Quill that. He waved Lylla off and, after a few seconds of thought, climbed up Quill to rest on his shoulder. "So, who is this mystery person?" 

"Well, I met 'em at Nova HQ and they seemed pretty cool so I thought it'd be nice for you to meet them for yourself."

"You and I have very different definitions on the word 'cool'." Rocket reminded him. 

"I think you'll really like this person. She's smart, she's understanding, she's... She's awesome, Rocket, you'll really like her."

Rocket pulled at Peter's hair to get his attention. "You tryna set me up with a chick here or something?" 

"Ahh! Goddammit, you can't just pull hair like that, man, it _hurts._ No, I'm trying to expand your social circle."

Rocket huffed. He didn't think Quill was telling the entire truth. "It's just wide enough for my liking." Little too wide sometimes, but Quill didn't need to know that. "Why is this so important anyways?" 

Quill scratched his jaw again. "It is important," he said, but it sounded more like he was thinking aloud. "Hang on, we'll go talk before you meet her."

"Why? Who is she?" Mindful of Peter's request to keep hair pulling at a minimum, Rocket didn't attempt to physically gain his attention. 

Quill found a quiet sitting area and stood politely by a couch until Rocket hopped from where he had been comfortably riding around on his shoulder. Then, for some reason, he knelt by the couch, so he was more or less making direct eye contact. "I nearly made a mistake. I, um..." He looked away. "She's a doctor, Rocket. It's just that you haven't mentioned anything about this situation with your sickness and we just thought if you met this doctor and got to know her, maybe it might help-"

"You did what?!" Rocket jumped to his feet and glared down at Quill. "You bastard! What the hell did you do that for?!" 

"Because we know you're trying to ignore it like you've been doing for the past three years."

"No, I'm not!" Rocket wrapped his arms around himself, like he was physically holding his innards inside his body. "So what's next, hmm? You already scheduled the damn op?" 

Peter flinched and looked into his eyes again. "Of course we haven't scheduled anything -"

"Why the hell not, Quill? You were gonna ambush me with one of those butchers, so why not set it up so I get carved open?"

"I would never do that! Nothing happens unless you want it to."

"Like meeting doctors, for example?"

Peter put his hands out. Rocket knew he didn't mean any harm, but his ears lowered and he stepped back. "I made a mistake," the Terran admitted. "I'm sorry. I should have been more honest, but I didn't think you'd agree if I told you there's a doctor."

"So why did you decide to tell me?" Rocket demanded. 

"Because this whole thing has to be your choice and your decision." Peter tried reaching out again, his movement slow. This time, Rocket didn't back away. "And, my God, you are the least trusting person I have ever met in my life. If I lose your trust, I'll lose you."

Rocket watched as one of his fingers instinctively curled itself around the larger, peach-coloured one belonging to Quill. "Yeah, you will."

"Did I screw up?" 

"A little, but you ain't lost me." With his free hand, he pointed a warning finger at Peter. "Do somethin' like this again, and I'll murder the crap out of you."

"Understood." 

Rocket sat back down. "What's she look like, this doctor thing?" Aesthetics were important. An Aakon woman would not be a possibility. 

"She's a Xandarian. She specialises in..." Quill struggles for several moments. "In unique people."

"That's a real nice way of wording it, Quill." Rocket stared toward his feet. "So, she's not yellow-skinned, right? And she don't work with any Aakon people?" 

Peter looked confused, his eyes full of questions. "No, no Aakon people if that's what you want."

Rocket shrugged. "I don't hate the Aakon people. I just...prefer not to be in close proximity to 'em. Not in a hospital, Pete." Especially not in a hospital.

"We'll make sure you're safe. I promise." Quill turned a little so Rocket could easily climb back onto his shoulder if he wished. "If you really don't want to meet her, you don't have to-"

"No, I'll see her. Don't get your hopes up, Quill,  if I don't like her, I won't let her dissect me." 

"That's fair." Peter waited until Rocket was secure and comfortable before getting to his feet again. "Her name is Faiix and she's _really_ nice-" 

"I want to talk to her alone."

Peter was silent as he walked along. Then he asked; "Why is that?" 

"She might be nice to _your_ face, Quill, but she might not be so nice to mine. There's only one way to be sure." And he was determined to find out for himself long before making any big decisions.


	12. Chapter 12

This was a mistake. A huge fucking mistake. What he should do, what he wanted to do, was walk out of the silent restaurant, taking his non-alcoholic cocktail with him. He eyed the doctor with uncertainty and drummed his claws onto the marble table. Partially to annoy her. Partially to see what she would do about it. 

Faiix had ordered a bowl of Kylemmian fries. When they arrived, she put the red clay bowl in the middle of the table, the salty scent of the vivid purple tubers wafting Rocket's way. "What's your name?" 

"What's it say on your tablet?" 

Faiix huffed contemptuously. "I wouldn't call a series of numbers a name."

He liked that answer. "Rocket. My name is Rocket."

Faiix smiled, her deep green eyes crinkling at the corners. "A name you chose yourself?" 

_"What's. Your. Real. Name?"_

_"My real name? The first word I ever spoke was 'rocket' and it's stuck with me ever since."_

Rocket shrugged, looked at his hands. "My best friend helped me choose it."

"Helped you?" 

Rocket met her eyes. "Yeah, he did. Got a problem with that?" 

"Not at all." Faiix took out the stick from her cocktail and nibbled a piece of Cylian melon from its pointed end. "I heard you have a major health problem. May we talk about it?" 

"That's why you're here, ain't it?" Rocket muttered. He was starting to wish he'd ordered a shot of Alaaxian vodka. "Used to get drunk a lot. Liver couldn't handle it and failed on me a couple years back. Got four years left in me, tops."

Faiix replaced the cocktail stick. "And you want treatment for it?" 

"Yeah. I don't want no freeloaders inside my body."

"Nobody pressured you into this decision? You weren't told that you _must_ do this?"

Rocket hesitated. They had said that he needed to get it fixed, yes, but he'd not been ordered or forced to do anything. "No," he said. "No one made me. I made this choice all on my own."

Faiix exhaled softly and Rocket realised how tense she had been. "I have to ask you that question," she explained. "Uplifts, especially ones who are illegally designed, are often programmed to be obedient. If this was a decision forced upon you by anybody, I cannot do anything."

"Why? Is it illegal?" 

Faiix grimaced. "Not exactly. Xandarian medical laws don't really cater to Uplifts, but to do anything to a person without their consent is _highly_ immoral."

Rocket almost didn't completely hate her. He reached for a fry and broke off a piece. "What's an Uplift?" 

"An Uplift is an animal which has been modified to possess humanoid intelligence. Often their bodies are modified too."

"So there _are_ others like me?"

The doctor tilted her head. "Similar. I haven't seen anyone quite like you before."

"One Uplift's got to be the same as any other, right?" 

Faiix shook her head, her multiple braids softly brushing against each other. "There's species, there's individual abilities. Some Uplifts can't verbally communicate because they were programmed to be silent or may have had their vocal cords destroyed."

Rocket thought of Lylla who had been rendered permanently mute by her creator. "Yeah. I never got called an Uplift before." He wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not. She hadn't called him stupid or freakish, but she hadn't said it was a positive thing either. 

"Xandar doesn't support the creation of Uplifts."

There was one thing both Xandar and Rocket finally agreed upon. "No decent place does."

Faiix sipped her drink. "There are places in which creating an Uplift is legal." 

"Why?"

"Pets."

Rocket grimaced. "That's disgustin'."

"I don't approve of it myself, but these Uplifts are the ones I usually help with their problems."

"What do you know about my problems?" 

"All I was told is that you have some kind of situation. Your friend only told me that you aren't a huge fan of doctors and needed the help of one. He didn't tell me anything else."

Rocket rested his chin on his hand and looked up at the doctor, watching her closely. Seemed to him that this butcher wasn't so bad. He pointed his thumb at the bar. "See that big silver bottle?" 

"I do."

"Know what it is?"

"Alaaxian vodka. It was a staple part of my diet when I was young."

"You an' me both. Used to down nearly three a night for two years straight."

Faiix smiled in a  reminiscent fashion.  "Shots?"

"Bottles."

The smile fell off her face, replaced by a look of deep shock. "I see." Faiix ran her finger around the rim of her glass, briefly averting her eyes from his. "Were you Uplifted legally?"

Rocket shifted back in his chair. "Why you asking me this?"

Faiix tucked three braids of her glossy brown hair behind her ear. "Uplifts who are illegally made are often built as soldiers, designed to be obedient regardless of their own thoughts and feelings. It's common for them to be... designed this way using microchips to overpower their brains. If you are an illegal Uplift, I have to ensure that you aren't being forced to obey anybody by opting for treatment."

"I'm not legal, but there's nobody in this galaxy who holds _me_ in check." 

She nodded. Her slim pink lips curved into a smile. "I can tell that. And it's a really good thing. It means less time gets wasted determining if you're capable of giving your consent or not."

Rocket reached for another fry. "This is all very nice, but can you do it or not? I'm kinda in a hurry, y'know? This useless lump of flesh has been hanging around rent-free for too damn long already."

"I'll bet, and we'll definitely speed things along as best we can. Would you like to tell me anything that you want throughout the treatment?"

"Sure do. I don't want to watch what's happening, I don't want to feel whatever you're doing, I want my family with me and I want music."

The doctor scribbled this down on the back of her hand. "I'm happy to honour those terms, but I do have a three person limit during the treatment itself."

"Why?" 

She kept his gaze, wrapping her fingers around the stem of her glass. "Because I need to stay close to you. Once it's finished with and you're healing, you can have as many people as you want."

He supposed that it would have been impossible to have them all crammed in the room with him anyway. And he didn't want Groot to see his dad being cut open. He shivered and then glanced longingly at the door. "We done?" 

"I would like to see any medical files." Faiix flinched briefly. "I need to know your medical history." 

The only hospital he'd ever stepped foot in had been the one on Contraxia when he'd gotten sick with the liver illness. The only thing with his medical history on it was the tablet he used to see his mother and there was no chance he was giving that away. "No, no." Rocket stood on his chair. "I don't do history. I don't have any."

The doctor's eyes stayed on him and just as he thought she was going to tell him that she knew damn well that he had information, she lowered her head in a nod. "Alright." Faiix got to her feet, taking a handful of the fries. "I'll find somewhere for treatment to take place, but I'll need your help to actually choose."

"Why?" 

"Certain smells, sounds, sights can cause issues," the doctor explained, her tone deliberately light. "I don't want you to be in any discomfort." 

Coming from the woman who was going to be cutting him open, that really didn't mean a whole lot. He accepted a blue business card with her number and watched her walk out of the door.  A glimmer of silver caught his eye and he turned his head to look at the faceted bottle of vodka which had caused him to need a doctor all those years ago. 

Just one shot and he wouldn't remember that he faced going under the knife. 

Just one shot and he wouldn't remember the reason why he drank so much. 

Just one shot and he wouldn't be so scared. 

The bartender caught his eye. "Can I get you anything?" 

 _"Fuck it,"_ Rocket thought to himself. _"It won't kill me."_ He pointed to the faceted bottle. "Shot of that." 


	13. Chapter 13

_"No! I don't want you to!"_

Another shot of the vodka, ice cold in even the hottest of environments. 

_"Whatever I did, I'm sorry, just please give me my meds!"_

Rocket held up a hand to the bartender who duly poured another shot out for him. 

_"At least knock me out! Just hit me over the head. I don't want to see this!"_

"Y'know what, just give me the entire bottle."

"Sir, I really don't know if that's a good idea."

"D'you want a bullet hole in your skull, you moron?"

The bartender handed it over, now much more accommodating. "I should warn you, that is the entire galaxy's 112th strongest spirit and-" 

"Oh, I don't give a fuck." Rocket held out his unit stick and, once the bottle was legally his, began downing it. He knew that it wasn't the best idea in the world, but now he had past memories taunting him, he wasn't going to pass up booze. He stopped downing the icy stuff before he could get brain freeze and then studied the reflective shards of crystal that made up the bottle. He could see amber where his eyes were and squinted as he made out red. Oh, god fucking dammit. It was Quill. He turned in his chair and glared up at him. "What the hell do you want?" 

Peter looked at him, he looked at the bottle and then he turned around to where the bartender stood dumbly. "You let him have the entire damn bottle? That stuff could kill a grown man!" 

"Well, shit, I'm not his mother."

Rocket stood on the table and pointed at the bartender. "Hey! Don't give Quill attitude or I'll-" he mimed shooting a gun and nodded with satisfaction as the man behind the bar mumbled an apology. "That's better. Now, listen here, you oversized moron..." he squared his shoulders and managed to make wavering eye contact with Quill. "He gave me the bottle because I asked very nicely for it-" 

"You threatened to shoot me in the head!"

"-yes, and then I paid for it. And, y'know somethin' else? I'm finishing the fucking thing. I'll finish it right fucking now."

"Rocket, come on." Quill moved it away, the movement slow and cautious. "You know this isn't the right thing for you to do."

"What is the right thing? Hmm? Rememberin' and rememberin' until memories quit bein' memories? You don't know anything!" 

"You're right, I don't know how you might be feeling right now. But I want to understand."

"Nobody understands, Quill. It's _impossible_ for people to understand! It isn't grief or love or hate. It's... It's..." Rocket put his hands on the back of his head, trying to think. However much he doubted Quill could understand, he at least wanted to give him a shot. "I don't want to remember, but I keep doing it. It won't leave me alone."

"You're haunted," Peter said softly. "And everyone understands that."

"Not like this, they don't."

"No. But we can help and we want to. You don't need to get drunk alone any more." Quill stooped down, going from being over six feet to barely four. "Want a ride?" 

"I bet you said that to the last poor idiot you banged." Rocket muttered as he stepped onto Peter's shoulder. 

Quill smiled serenely. "Tomorrow, Rock, you're going to have a really bad headache and I'm going to lovingly tend you back to full health by performing dance numbers."

"Do it an' I'll smother you." Boy, was Quill in for a shock. Hangovers were not something Rocket knew very well because he never got the stupid things. 

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Hey, Groot wanted to stay with his mommy tonight-" 

Rocket held onto Quill's head to try and secure himself. "How did you figure that out? Didn't think you understood him just yet."

"We didn't, but then he pointed at her, which cleared things up." Peter raised his hands and brushed Rocket's arms lower. "You're blinding me, man."

Rocket flinched. He'd only ever blinded one man and images of the knife plunging into white flesh were starting to attack him. "I'm stayin' with you tonight."

Quill nodded and one hand went up to rub behind Rocket's ear. "Suits me."

Rocket rested his jaw on the thick honey-coloured hair growing from Quill's scalp, closing his eyes. Fine hairs tickled his nose, but he didn't really care. He could feel every single individual strand underneath his palms and wondered if Pete and Drax liked petting him because he, too, felt soft and warm. There was a low beep and he opened his eyes, wondering where Quill had brought him to this time. "Where are we, Pete?" 

"You said you were staying with me tonight, remember?"

Had he? He couldn't remember, but he was here now, so why not stick around? He slid down from the humanoid's shoulder and landed on the bed frame, looking around. It reminded him of Groot bringing him back from whatever dangers he'd drunkenly brought upon himself. Rocket didn't want to imagine what Groot would think if he could see him now. 

"Zune's in its normal place, Rock. I'm going to turn in. Night." Quill paused to rub behind his ears and then went out of sight, somewhere behind him. 

Rocket pulled off the top half of his jumpsuit and lay back. He was remembering all kinds of things - really good things - about Groot. If he closed his eyes and thought real hard, he could still see those dark gold eyes gazing at him, like he was the single most important thing in the galaxy. Damn, there were so many things he missed. He missed those warm eyes, that goofy smile, the thrum of Groot's life-force beneath his bark. Their sapling had a life-force, but it was a rapid, tiny flow, whereas Groot's had been slow and large. He turned his head to look at Quill and inched closer, hoping that he stayed asleep. Peter's eyes remained closed and Rocket climbed onto his torso, pressing his ear on his chest.  

For the first time in four months, he fell asleep to the strong sound of a life-force. 

* * *

"-Goddammit, I hope he wakes up soon."

"How can you wish that? Look how adorable he is."

"Drax, he would claw your eyes out for sayin' that." Peter tried shifting him, but Rocket held onto his shirt to avoid losing his very comfortable space. "Come on, Rocket, wake up. I need to pee."

"You should have emptied your bladder before you went to sleep."

"I didn't need to pee! Now I do, and I can't move because I have a thirty pound raccoon sleeping on me!" 

"Then you shouldn't think of things like running rivers or leaking faucets or-"

"Drax!"

Rocket could hear the booming laugh from the Destroyer and opened his eyes just a little. He could make out Gamora's dark head in the distance and soon realised that it wasn't just Quill and Drax with him. A large finger rubbed behind his ear and he quickly closed his eyes before anyone realised that he was, in fact, wide awake. 

Drax kept up the gentle touches and exhaled softly. "It's a pity that you're asleep, my friend, because we found Cotaci berries and now there is no one to eat them."

Rocket couldn't stop his ears from flicking. Now Drax mentioned it, he could make out their scent. He opened an eye and lifted his head. "Where?" 

Peter made a noise like an angry cat. "You little jerk! You were awake all this time and let me suffer!" 

"It was funny!" That and the fact Quill had been comfortable and warm. He rolled onto the bed and reached out a hand for the bag Drax was holding. "And I don't weigh thirty pounds! I bulked up. I weigh forty!" He ate a handful of the grapes and then looked around. "Where's Groot?" 

"Lylla asked him for his assistance with a project."

"Oh." Rocket wondered what she was making. He'd not heard any explosions, which was rare for her work. Maybe she was using silencers. He could hear Quill whistling in the bathroom and shook his head, taking another handful of the berries. "Where's the other two?" 

"There's an art exhibition downtown," Gamora explained, sitting on the bed. She accepted a grape and then grimaced at the taste. "Ugh!  Why did I think tasting one of those things would be a good idea?" 

"You should set a good example for our son by eating your fruit, Gamora."

"That's literally all he eats!"

"That's not true. He also eats candy."

"Which you buy for him." Quill interjected, emerging from the bathroom. He patted his hands dry on his shirt and took a seat by Gamora. "How's your head?" 

"I'm fine. Don't get hangovers."

"You drank an entire bottle of Alaaxian vodka, one of the strongest spirits in the universe, and you haven't got a hangover?"

"Nope."

"What made you do it?"

If it had been Pete or Drax who had asked the question, Rocket would have ignored it, but he didn't dare to ignore Gamora. "Nothin'. I got drunk because I felt like it."

"That's bullshit, man." Quill said calmly. "Look, I know what's goin' on here. Just let us in."

"Bite me."

"No. Don't know where you've been."

"I've been in your bed, so maybe it is best that you don't."

Peter lightly nudged against his arm. "Quit stalling and start talking."

Rocket sighed heavily and looked away from him. "Oh, goddammit. Look, Pete, you don't know anything at all about what's going on here, so just leave it alone and-"

"What did the doctor say to you?" 

"She didn't say nothin', Drax."

"Okay," Gamora interrupted Quill and shifted forward a little. "Okay, we believe you. But I, for one, would like to know how the meeting went. Was she a nice person?" 

Rocket shrugged, glad that the heat was off. "She was okay. Didn't sugarcoat things, wasn't a jerk. Coulda been worse." 

"Do you like her?"

"Eh. I guess she'll do. Don't know when I'll see her again. Any of you got her number?"

Peter held up a hand in confirmation. "So, you guys got to know each other, huh?" 

"Yeah. She gave me a name for this thing I am. Know what she called me? An Uplift." The other three exchanged glances, silently telling Rocket that they had never heard of the things before. He took another grape and explained; "They're animals who are made into people. Given intelligence and physical enhancements. Things a little like me."

"Do you not like the term? Uplift?" Drax asked, his voice low and soft. 

"Well, shit, Drax. I been called worse, y'know?" Rocket crossed his legs and briefly thought of how unnatural they were. 89P09 would never have been able to cross her own legs. "She told me about all these Uplifts she worked on. Did you know that Uplifts are illegal 'round here, but in some parts of the galaxy, they're legal?"

Nobody said anything, but all three had their eyes set upon him. 

"They have most of 'em as pets. Fuckin' weird, if you ask me. Taking an ordinary animal and opening it up, giving it the ability to think and speak, just to have it be your fuckin' pet." 

"Rocket-" 

"Who the hell came up with the idea of Uplifts in the first place? Didn't they think of the things they were messin' with before they wrecked lives?" Rocket huffed a laugh. "Who even came up with the name? 'Uplift'? Like, what, now the thing is even better than it was before, just 'cause it's self aware? It doesn't make any sense." 

"You're not a pet, man..."

"No, I'm worse than that. I'm a weapon that never got finished."

"You're definitely not a weapon." Gamora shook her head. "You're a living person, who thinks and breathes. Weapons don't do those things."

"I'm not what I was meant to be," Rocket told her. "I'm not a Procyon like my mother and I'm not what that jerk-off planned for."

Drax cleared his throat. "It's not a simple thing to understand what you are meant to be," he said. "And what you are meant to be cannot be determined by others. It's only for you to decide."

"Well, how do I decide that?" 

Drax moved his palm to just above Rocket's head and started the smoothing motion with his fingertips. "You'll know." 

"What are you meant to be?"

"A father. I've known this for years."

Rocket looked at the other two. "What about you?" 

"I'm meant to be a good person." Gamora answered, no hesitation slowing her voice. "Not an evil one."

Peter looked thoughtful. "I don't know yet," he admitted. "But it's okay. We have time." He leaned in closer. "Rock, whatever you decide to call yourself, it doesn't change who you are. If something unsettles you, come find us."

It hadn't just been that. But they weren't to know. "Okay, whatever. Are we done now? I have things to do." 

Quill smiled. "Is there anything else you want to talk about?" 

"Absolutely nothin'." Rocket insisted. He swiped up the top half of his jumpsuit and pulled it over his head. "I'll see you guys later."


	14. Chapter 14

"Work, you stupid frickin' machine!" Rocket tried jiggling the wires again. It didn't light up. Instead, it remained blank, showing only his reflection and he scowled at it. 

He really wanted to see his mother. 

Finally, Rocket had to accept that the tablet was well and truly busted. He opened it up and located the bright silver memory chip. He pocketed the chip and puzzled over where he could possibly find another tablet for the chip. No one else had one on their persons, with the exception of Lylla, but he would sooner shoot himself in the head than ask to use her tablet. 

He could go out and steal one from a random stranger, but tablets were notoriously difficult to steal in Xandar. People either never stopped using the d'ast things or kept them securely hidden away in pockets or purses. 

Any one of the screens in the Quadrant could be messed around with to accept the memory chip. Rocket considered this seriously, mulling it over in his mind, holding the deadened husk of his tablet in his hands. No one needed to know that he was being soft - looking for his mom at nearly seven years of age - and Quill _definitely_ didn't need to know that he was indulging in unapproved dismantling of the Quadrant. 

Rocket knew the ship like the back of his hand. He knew how to open it, he knew how to sneak onboard and, most importantly, he knew _exactly_ where it was. 

* * *

There she was. The first person to ever love him. The first person he'd ever loved. The first person who had died on him

At some point in their lives, he'd stopped speaking her language. It hadn't stopped her from loving him, even as he'd tried to get used to his new vocal cords and his newly changed tongue. She accepted it. Adapted her ways of communication, treated him carefully as if she was afraid that her voiceless son would break if not treated right. 

Rocket guessed that if 89P09 _had_ thought that, she was right. 

He watched her, all bones jutting out of fur thinned by stress, tending to the infant he had once been. She was licking all over his face and holding him steady with one paw while he kicked his feet and made soft huffing noises to show his disapproval. 89P09 stopped, licked his nose with a soft chitter and continued what she had been doing. He put up with it for perhaps one more second before wriggling away and then crawling as his concerned mother began following. He made it to the very end of the cage and flopped down, panting in a very raspy fashion. 89P09 grabbed his head with her jaws and rolled onto her back. 

Rocket flinched. Underneath where 89P09 was placing his younger self were no less than eight fresh and ugly scars from where her teats had been removed. She yelped as the tiny claws on his feet brushed past one of the scars, but she seemed to understand that it hadn't been on purpose, nuzzling her black nose against his ear. 

"Is she your mother?"

Rocket froze. "Tell me you're on your own, Lylla."

"Groot is here with me, but other than that, I am alone." 

Rocket turned the chair to look at her. "What are you even doing in here?" 

"It is a surprise." Lylla's eyes were drawn to the screen. "How have you found this?" 

"Ah, it was from this old tablet from that place." Rocket looked down at his paws. "It broke, so I came here to see her again. You won't tell nobody, right?" 

Lylla shook her head and sat up beside him. "No, I will not. I understand why you keep her a secret." 

Rocket tried to relax, but he couldn't help looking at Lylla. "Do you know what an Uplift is?"

"Yes, and I find the name both ridiculous and offensive."

"Not the worst thing I've been called."

Lylla took her eyes off the screen where 89P09 was cradling her young and looked at Rocket. "The problem is not that it is rude. The problem is that it is such a noble word for what you and I are."

"How do you mean?"

Lylla turned and crossed her legs, the purple of her robe stretching taut. "Uplift. Like we were uplifted. How pleasant does that sound? As if we were simply helped to walk in a bipedal fashion, as if knowledge was lovingly bestowed upon us, as if we were gifted the ability to speak. It is a name given by humanoids to make them feel less guilty for either harming us or allowing us to be harmed."

"So, what are we?"

"We are people."

"Well, what's our species?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yeah. I wanna know and I've wanted to know as long as I can remember."

Lylla averted her eyes, looking at her hands. "I do not think you and I have a species any longer. We're too different to what we once were. But you do have a people and that is something."

"Can you remember? Before you..."

"Oh, yes, I remember. I remember the scent of rain and the gushing of the river. I remember teaching my pups to swim and seeing them grow to fend for themselves. Those things kept me alive in that place."

Rocket looked back at the screen where his mom lay sleeping, not minding the fact he had draped himself over her chest with the tip of his tail over her nose. He could see leaf fragments on the bottom of the cage floor and, as if on cue, a handful of leaves fluttered around them. _Groot._ He'd forgotten that they had been neighbours when 89P09 had been alive. "What the hell kept Groot alive in there?"

"Dear, I imagine it was you." Lylla touched his shoulder and then started watching 89P09. "She really is your image. You look exactly like her."

"I know." It hadn't been an easy truth to accept, but the eyes, the markings... 89P09 was as good as a reflection. The only dissimilarity between Rocket and his mother were the rings on their tails. "Wish I could've had some memories of her, y'know? I mean, I have the memory chip, but it's not the same."

"You are still a part of her. Nothing can ever change that."

"Yeah, I know." Rocket paused the video and watched his feral mother for several seconds. "Why do things like us even get made? What gives anyone the right for this to happen?"

Lylla briefly stiffened and held her hands close together. "We weren't made legally, you and I. Nobody gave our creators any rights. I do not know why people like us get put together, but in most parts of the galaxy where it is legal, animals do not have many rights. That is why making people like us is legal, to get some use out of the animal. In the parts of the galaxy where animals do have rights, it is because their owners want to enjoy them more, get to have a closer bond with them."

"That's seriously messed up."

"You are right, it is. But at least we are not owned by anyone."

Rocket glanced at Lylla, wondering how she was going to fare living in Xandar. "Are you sure you want to stay here? What about _your_ rights?"

"I have good business with the Xandarian people, so I will be fine. You do not need to worry about me." Lylla smiled, showing her pointy little teeth. "Tell me about this woman you met."

"The doctor? She's okay." Rocket switched the screen off, taking 89P09 out of sight and took out the chip from where he had connected it. "I might come back here to see her again, at least until I find another tablet."

"Well, if you need me, I will be in the workshop." Lylla jumped back down and started rolling her sleeves up.

"Sure you don't want to tell me what you're working on with my son who will probably tell me everything when I ask him?"

Lylla grinned. "Nice try. I already swore Groot to secrecy."

Rocket laughed and sprang down to the floor. "Like that's going to last!"

Lylla smirked. "He might just surprise you. What are your plans for today?" 

"I'll just hang out with one of the others. See you."

Lylla raised a hand to say a silent goodbye and turned away. He could hear her calling for Groot and took a last look at the memory chip before putting it in his pocket and walking out of the ship into the brilliant light of the three suns of Xandar.

* * *

He didn't know where to hide the chip. He was wary of keeping it in his pocket in case something stupid happened, like it falling out or getting stolen. In hindsight, he should have hidden it in his quarters on the Quadrant, but he was back in the room now and he wasn't about to walk all the way back to the ship like some moron. For now, the chip was safe with him.  
Rocket flinched as the familiar tendrils of pain began growing around the large clump of metal over his spine. He was late taking his meds today, due to both last night's escapade and going to see his mom, but he couldn't find the little yellow tube of pills inside his pockets. Where had he put them? He knew he'd had them yesterday at some point. He skimmed his eyes around the room and, to his relief, spotted the yellow tube standing on the dresser. He knew for a fact that he hadn't put them there, the dresser being two feet taller than he was, and silently cursed whichever thoughtless giant had been moron enough to put them somewhere he couldn't easily reach.  Using the handles as footholds, he climbed up the dresser, snatching the tube in a swift movement. Something seemed off and he soon realised that the fucking thing was fucking empty.

"Dammit," Rocket breathed. He tossed the useless tube into the trash and hissed as the agony grew. The sensible option would be to ask one of the others to go find him more painkillers, but he didn't want them to see him in such a vulnerable state. He'd even hated it when _Groot_ had seen him reduced to a tormented wreck. It wasn't as bad as when he had been small, because now there was more surface area for the pains to attack and his pain threshold was much larger. Maybe he could ignore it until he found a pharmacy? But what if there wasn't one for miles? What if they didn't want to give him any painkillers? It wouldn't be the first time that he was refused medication on account of being a...whatever he was. Uplift. Freak. Monster. It was all the same.  
He couldn't waste time. Asking for help was the only option. He couldn't ignore it for much longer and he knew it. He might just make it to the doors that led to outside and after that, he would collapse. Dammit. He closed his fist around the communicator on the dresser and pressed the button. He hoped to whatever god was listening that he would get Gamora.

"You know," the Zen-Whoberian said, amusement in her voice, "it's lazy of you to use the comms when I'm literally two doors down from you."

"I'm out of my pain relief."

Gamora's tone changed from amused to serious. "Okay. I'm going to send someone to stay with you and I'll get your painkillers-"

"Aww, Gamora..."

"You know how bad it gets," Gamora reminded him softly. "And you don't want to go through that alone."

Rocket hated it when she was right. "Goddammit, fine. Just don't let Groot near me."

"He won't know, I promise. I'll see you soon."

Rocket climbed back down to the floor and slid down against the dresser until he was sat against it. He closed his eyes and heard the sliding sound of the door opening. He thought at first that it must have been one of the others, here on Gamora's orders, but then he sniffed at the air and his eyes opened. He knew that smell. It was the powdery, sweet scent of an Aakon. He calmly put his trembling hand on the handle of the dresser's lowest drawer. Inside, he kept grenades and other explosives for emergencies. The day had finally come as he had known it eventually would and he opened his eyes, completely unsurprised at who he saw. "Gavaar. You found me."


	15. Chapter 15

Rocket could feel the metallic curve of one of his smaller grenades. As much as he wanted to blow Gavaar to pieces, he was very mindful of the fact that Drax was across the hall, Kraglin was in the room to his right and Quill was residing to his left. If either of them were in their rooms, they'd be fucked. 

"I hear you've been careless."

The others would be here soon. Rocket hoped that they would tell him he was hallucinating, something, because this could be true. It couldn't be real. Not without Groot there. "No. Everything is fine." He managed to conceal the grenade and braved a look into the Aakon's eyes. Once they had been hazel. Now they were grey circles with a pinprick of red. Cybernetic eyes. Now Gavaar was a cyborg, same as him. Rocket hoped that they hurt. 

"Don't lie to me, I know you're sick. What did you do to yourself?"

"What did _I_ do to myself?" Rocket could feel the grenade trembling in his hand. He forced himself to try to calm down before he blew himself up instead of Gavaar. "I did nothin'. All the bad shit that happened, that's on you. And it's none of your business if I'm sick or not. I can take care of myself. For example, I can get rid of bad people. Like this." Raising his arm, he hurled the grenade at his creator. 

The dark grey disk of metal made its usual hum as it made its journey through the air. Its soft pink light began to glow, but just before it could make contact with any part of the Aakon's body (Rocket had been aiming for his head), Gavaar simply moved out of its trajectory and it smashed against the wall, exploding in a cloud of white, leaving behind silver sparks and pieces of rubble. "I'm not going _anywhere_ without you."

"Then you ain't going anywhere." Rocket edged away. He was cornering himself, but at least he still had a drawer full of explosives. He really didn't want to use one of the big ones because he risked not only killing himself, but any one of the others. Thank God that Groot was with Lylla and he wasn't at any kind of risk. "How did you know I was here?"

"The people who survived your rampage chose not to return to Halfworld. Some of them, before they left, found me. They saved me. Some of them live here in Xandar, a planet you've saved twice. That place you went to with that woman. The man at the bar heard all about your problems."

"Then you know that I'm dealing with the problems." Rocket gritted out. He couldn't let the pain get the best of him, not with his creator standing only a few feet away. _Where were the others?_ And he was going to kill that fucking barman.

"You're coming with me."

"No." Rocket shook his head, running a hand through assorted weapons for another small grenade. "No. I'll never go anywhere with you, never."

"You know that nobody knows your body better than I do."

Rocket could have laughed if the situation wasn't so goddamn awful. "It's changed. I've _tripled_ in size, remember? I trust the doctor to do what she's gotta, but I sure as fuck don't trust you." Never mind the fact that he didn't exactly trust her. He trusted the Guardians to make sure nothing nasty happened while she was cutting him open.

"And you trust the Guardians? They left you on Berhert to be seized by Ravagers-"

"They trusted me to defend myself and I _did."_ Or at least he had until Nebula had turned up and shot him.

"And they will allow people to touch you without your consent. One of them did it before."

"Drax didn't mean anything, it was a stupid joke! Shut up about them, you don't know anything!"

"I know that eventually the novelty of being a gang of heroes will wear off and one day they won't want you around."

Rocket shook his head, curling his legs up close to his body. "You're wrong. They'll never leave me." He clenched and unclenched his fists, contemplating whether it would be a possibility to throw another grenade or not. "They do right by me. They love me." And he loved them. _All_ of them.

"How long do you think they'll love you?"

Forever. Rocket was certain it would be forever. But he could never tell Gavaar that. He couldn't afford to let him into his mind.

"Rocket?" A series of taps bounced off the door. "I got a key in case you can't move and Drax is with me. Scream real loud if you can't let us in."

This was the man Rocket chose to trust. What morons they both were. Rocket didn't want any of them to come in. Not with Gavaar there. For all he knew, the Aakon was armed. He looked away, casting his eyes to the ground when a roll of agony coursed through his body. He couldn't help it. He screamed like he was dying. The door began sliding open and he panicked. "No! Don't you two come in here! It's not safe!"

"What's not safe?"

Rocket pointed at Gavaar. The Aakon didn't move, suddenly turning as stiff as a corpse. "It's Gavaar. You see him, right?" 

Both Drax and Quill turned, both facing Gavaar. They both turned back to face him. "Rocket," Drax said gently. "No one is there."

Rocket rubbed an area under his ribs to try and calm down the aching. "He is! I can see him!" 

"There's nobody in this room except for the three of us."

Rocket wanted to believe them. But he couldn't deny what his eyes were telling him. Maybe there was one way to know the truth. He edged forward, adopting a stance on his hands and toes and edged closer even as it made his fur stand on end. He was sure that if Gavaar tried to snatch him, Quill and Drax would paint the walls sickly orange with his blood and, taking a deep breath, he reached out to swipe a hand at the Aakon's shin. 

His hand went through the Aakon's leg. But his creator was still standing there. Rocket inched back and looked at Drax. "What the hell is going on?"

"Sometimes our minds can play tricks on us." Quill picked his way through the rubble from the grenade and stood by where Gavaar was standing, blocking him from view.

"Am I going fuckin' crazy?"

"No." Drax shook his head. "You're afraid and this is something that can be aided. Has he appeared to you before now?"

Thinking of the nightmares and bad memories that had been plaguing him, Rocket looked down from Drax's eyes. "Kinda. Sometimes I get dreams." Rocket couldn't stop looking at the Aakon. Even though he knew that this Gavaar was just a figment of his imagination, he could see the black shine of his shoes. "He's still there."

"Then we'll leave him here. He won't follow us."

"How do you know he won't?"

Drax rubbed a hand over his smooth scalp. "I know about these things. I know that he seems real even though you understand that he isn't."

He must have seen Hovat and Kamaria millions of times, Rocket realised. Maybe he'd even seen _Ronan_ in his darkest moments. How else could Drax know? He forced his gaze away from his creator and started limping his way to the open door when a new figure came into view, a saviour with the very things he needed.

Gamora looked from him to the scattered debris from the grenade to Quill who was blocking Rocket from his imagined nemesis. "What...what's happened here?"

"Don't ask," Rocket held up his hand for the tube and placed one of the tiny pills onto his tongue, swallowing quickly. "Just don't ask." Gamora looked at Quill curiously, but chose not to press the issue - at least for now. Rocket had no doubt that she wanted to find out what was going on and even less doubt that she would find out. He silently cursed his mind for terrifying him the way it had and managed eye contact with Drax, flinching at the ongoing pains. "Can I use your couch tonight?"

Drax shrugged. "Yes, if you like. Just don't play any loud music when I'm trying to sleep."

"I ain't Quill." Rocket stopped in his tracks. "The clones..."

"I'll get them." Drax said as if it was the simplest thing in the world, and he went straight back into the room Rocket had partially destroyed without a second of doubt. When he returned, he placed the clones into Rocket's arms and used his key to make the door slide open. "Get them set up if you wish."

The scent of Drax was overpowering. Figured - the man had been sleeping there for several days. There was an oil he used to keep his skin protected, in particular the areas with his ornamental scars. Drax claimed it had a very light fragrance, but Rocket could easily smell the fruits used. They were sharp, fresh, strong. Once, he'd opened the triangular bottle after a bad dream and the scent had helped him to relax.   
Rocket wanted more of the oil's scent. Despite knowing that there were no insane Aakons after him, despite being out of the room, despite knowing that, if nothing else, he had protection tonight, he still felt uneasy. He had a good idea where the bottle was, but he didn't want Drax knowing how weird he was - wanting to smell someone. But if Drax really _did_ find the scent of the oil so unnoticeable, maybe he wouldn't realise if Rocket borrowed some? He glanced at the closed door, listening out for any warning that he was going to be interrupted, and went to the nightstand. He found the oil in the drawer and held the blue vessel in his hand, twisting off the stopper in a single motion. Rocket put his nose just an inch above the neck of the bottle and breathed in the comforting fragrance. It was probably killing his lungs, but it was worth it. He closed his eyes briefly and then snapped them open again as the door slid. His bright brown eyes met Drax's soft blue and he froze. 

Wordlessly, Drax strode over, took one of the pillows from his bed and pulled out the actual pillow from its case. He approached Rocket carefully and turned the bottle sideways so drops soaked into the pillow, leaving a strong aroma and little damp spots behind as evidence. Drax dressed the pillow again and then offered it to him. "Here. It's far more pleasant." 

Rocket handed him the oil and held the pillow in both hands. "I don't need this." Never would he ever admit that he did need it.

"You don't need to feel ashamed. It's perfectly natural to seek comfort in familiarity."

"Wasn't seekin' nothing."

Drax nodded, but Rocket got the impression that he didn't believe his words. "It's your pillow now, whether you were seeking anything or not."

"Uh huh." Rocket stepped away from Drax and jumped onto the arm of the couch, shoving the pillow into the crease between seat cushion and armrest before jumping onto the seat and lying back against the pillow. It was soft and the oil scent was just strong enough. He held back a yawn and nestled down, closing both eyes. A darkness fell over his face and he opened one eye to see Drax standing over him, both arms crossed. He grunted something nonsensical and closed both eyes again. 

There were, after all, plenty worse people to watch him sleep.  


	16. Chapter 16

He was more surprised than he should have been to wake up and find Lylla sitting on the coffee table opposite where he had chosen to sleep. He could still smell the comforting oil and watched as Lylla deftly created a small explosive, a twin to the one he had wasted throwing at the demon his mind had forced him to see. "What you doin' here?"

Lylla reached for her pad. "I just helped that captain of yours invent a lie to save you from answering any questions about the explosion in your room."

"What did you say?"

"We told them that it was an effect from the Expansion."

"You're the best."

The corner of Lylla's mouth twitched at the compliment, but it was clear by the look in her eyes that the topic wasn't finished with. "They are worried for you. And they are right to be."

"No, they're not. Everythin' is peachy."

"You know that is not true." Lylla finished up what she had been working on and set the compact disc to one side. If Quill could see it, he would have a heart attack, seeing the perilous way it was balanced. "Rocket, this is serious. Seeing people who are not there is the sign of a very unhealthy mind."

"I told you, everything's fine."

Lylla locked her eyes onto his. "Listen to me," she said. "There is no one in this galaxy who understands your fears as much as I do. But you cannot keep your fears a secret any more. If you keep them locked away, you will drive yourself to insanity."

"And what happened _wasn't_ insanity?"

"That was a preview of insanity." Lylla sighed and leant forward, briefly holding her hands together. "I do not ever want you to have to face that thing again. Not because of your own mind. You can stop this from happening to yourself again, but only by talking."

"Did it ever happen to you?"

Lylla grimaced. "Lots of things happened to me after I left that place," she admitted. "Just because you get out of somewhere terrible does not mean that life falls conveniently into place again. Yes, that happened to me. It happened repeatedly. And I do not want you to go through that kind of torment."

"I didn't know that you saw things."

Lylla half-smiled and shook her head. "Because I never allow anyone to know about it. I placed so many distress calls to Xandar that they assigned a therapist to me. Eventually, the fear was not so great." Lylla smiled for real, her pointed teeth gleaming. "Half a year later, you arrived at Home and I have not seen things since."

Rocket sat up, facing Lylla and kept his wrists locked together. "I can't...I don't know how to talk about it."

Lylla straightened and then reached for one of his hands. "Then follow my lead. I will talk to you and your family and you will talk to us." She squeezed his hand. "No more secrets." 

* * *

"And you guys are _sure_ you want to do this?" Kraglin asked for the eight time. If anything, the Xandarian was more concerned about hearing the stories than Lylla and Rocket were about telling them.

"Positive." Rocket held out his hand for the Zune and put the earbuds to Groot's earholes. His son didn't need to hear the upcoming horror stories. Not at his age. Not ever. He glanced at Lylla, wondering if she was actually going to talk. He wasn't so sure if either of them _could._  

Lylla cast her eyes around at the others and picked up her tablet. "I was roughly two years of age and had raised my first litter when the spaceship plucked me from my homeworld."

Lylla's story was very similar, in beginnings, to Groot's. Rocket looked down at the sapling in his lap, the earbuds close to his miniscule ears. Music was playing from one of Rocket's clones, but he could still hear an old Beatles song playing from the Zune. He focused on Lylla. She needed him to listen.

"I was not supposed to be taken. I was nowhere near the beam, but one of the trappers were after my son." Lylla paused to pull her robe tighter. "So, it was me who was grabbed. They kept me fed and watered, but it still frightened me. Before I knew it, I was in Halfworld and had been bought by a Gunavian. She was trying to make something useful for her homeworld and deemed me adequate for her surgeries. She gave me intelligence and then wanted me to speak, but she did such a botched attempt that my vocal cords rotted away and the infection almost killed me. I didn't let her know that I was in pain because I hoped that it would kill me. She was very angry with me when she learned that I knew about the infection." Lylla cleared her throat and rubbed her hands together. "After that, I was taken off her hands by a Kylorian man, who called himself the Technician. He made my body the way it is now and saw...other uses for it."

"Lylla," Gamora interrupted softly. "You don't have to."

Lylla ignored her. "He introduced me to a feral beast who was in heat. I ended up breaking his neck before he could mount me. The Technician was not happy about it, but he never tried to breed me like that again. Instead, he focused on trying to restore my voice and gave me my knowledge of explosives while attempting to use artificial means of impregnation. Eventually he succeeded." Lylla stopped and her hands spread over her abdomen. "Halfworld is no place for children." She briefly caught Rocket's eye. "No place at all." Inhaling deeply, she took a few seconds. "I could not bring children into that place, so I collected assortments and created a bomb. I set it off just as the Technician came to get me." Lylla shuddered. "I can still see his face melting, molten metal burning into his skin. Oh, gods, his screams...I will never forget it. They brought me so much joy to hear."

"Did he die?"

Lylla looked into his eyes and nodded. "Yes, he died. I watched the light leave his eyes. And then I found the generator which powered that place and rigged it up to explode. I was so large that I could barely run, but I ran and I ran until I found the bridge to the docking port. To this day, I do not know how I managed to get the ship to power up, but I did. The last I saw of Halfworld, it was a blaze of red and gold against blue water." Lylla smiled for just a moment. " And then my ship ran out of fuel and gradually my children stopped moving inside me. The time came for them to be born and I hoped at least one would survive, but they were all gone." Lylla rubbed at her watering eyes and exhaled sharply. "After that, I lost any semblance of hope and lay down with them. Next thing, a group of Ravagers had boarded my ship and were trying to get me to come with them. They did not need to save me, but they wanted to. They even gave my babies a funeral." Lylla sniffed. "Ravagers get a bad rep and maybe it is partially deserved, but they were the first to ever treat me well and I cannot forget that. I would not be here now if it had not been for them."

"Which, uh...which faction was this?" Kraglin asked.

"Oh, I did not know about factions at the time. I can remember the captain. Her name was Aleta."

Quill's head shot up and he stared at Lylla. "You _knew_ Aleta Ogord?"

"Only for a short while, yes. She was not a woman to be messed around with." Lylla glanced down and tugged at one of her sleeves. "I liked her. Anyway, after they saved me, I made my way here to Xandar, wearing a tattered old blanket and unable to vocally communicate. They found me this," she held up her tablet. "And then I found out about Home, so I set up shop there. Even there, knowing that I was safe, I still remembered it all. I used to see my children. Or I would see the Technician. I put in so many false alarms to Xandar that they got a therapist to call me each day. It was a struggle, but the images of the dead stopped haunting me." Lylla faced Rocket again. "Six months later, I got a call to say that another Uplift and the sole surviving member of a rare race had found their way out of Halfworld and to expect to hear from them."

Rocket wondered how he would feel if an Uplift escaped from Halfworld and came looking to him for guidance. He didn't think he would be able to cope. At least not alone. Not like Lylla had.

"So, that's my story." Lylla finished, placing her tablet on her lap. Slowly, she turned her eyes to Rocket, waiting patiently. She didn't ask him to start talking, but it was clear that it was now his turn to share. It would be okay, he knew, if he couldn't or if he just didn't want to. No one would hold it against him. But he never wanted to see Gavaar again.

He _had_ to talk. 


	17. Chapter 17

"I trusted my creator." Rocket hesitated, looked at Lylla to see if she would look at him with the contempt he so often felt for his younger self. She didn't. Nobody did. He looked down at Groot, not knowing what else to say or do. Groot looked straight back up at him with gold-amber eyes and gave him a large and goofy smile, the song from the Zune drowning out any words Rocket could say to him. Not for one moment, could he ever imagine hurting his child. "His name was Gavaar. He controlled every little part of my life from the second 89P09 starting havin' labour pains."

Mantis raised her hand a little. "Who is 89P09?"

Rocket took his eyes from Groot. "She was my mother." The Empath's eyes widened a little and Rocket started speaking before she could ask any other questions. "There were five of us when 89P09 was pregnant, but only two of us were born alive. Me and my sister. I don't know how imprinting is done, but Gavaar made sure that we both bonded with him before we ever got the chance to bond with our mom." He shook his head. "Sometimes, I can't believe our mother still wanted us after that. You know some species will abandon their young if they don't smell right?"

"Where's your sister now?"

"She's dead. Died the day after we were born and it really pissed my mom off according to-" Rocket stopped. Only Groot and Lylla knew about the tablet, now just a memory chip. He wasn't sure if he should tell the others about the tablet just yet. "Anyway, after she died, it was just us two. My mom did all that she could to try and protect me from Gavaar, she knew how dangerous he was, but nothin' could stop him." Especially not someone who was two-and-a-half feet tall and weighed 12 pounds. "When I was a couple months old and barely weaned, Groot was brought in and put next to us. See, his home planet had been torched and all his people were gone. Bunch of Ravagers took him to Halfworld to make some money. So, we had ourselves a neighbour who gave us his leaves so we wouldn't go hungry. Mom didn't really like anyone, but she liked him." He rubbed his son's head, nudging the earbuds closer to him. "She didn't trust Gavaar. Like I said, she knew he was bad news, but she couldn't do a lot. He'd find ways to get me and one day she snapped and damn near bit his thumb off, so he smashed her head in. Then he took me away from Groot and made sure I didn't remember either of 'em."

"How did he do that?"

That was a good question. Rocket had never read his own records, so he didn't know. He shrugged. "Didn't ask. I assume he went his preferred route and cut open my head to do it, but that's just a guess." He gently pulled Groot's fingers out of his little mouth and tried to keep Lylla's warning in mind. Last thing he wanted was for Groot to be raised by a crazy person like he had been. "I used to ask him where I'd come from and he would just tell me that he'd made me. It was when I asked how that he started to trip up a little. At first, he told me that I was made up of a bunch of chemicals mixed together, but when I asked him what ones, he told me that I came from an earlier prototype. And when I asked about these prototypes, he got really pissed and told me that I wasn't to ask again." He looked around at them and explained; "He would answer any question I shot at him, no matter what. He liked questions, he said it was good to expand my knowledge. I didn't understand why he didn't want me to ask about my origins any more, so I asked why I couldn't."  

Mantis blinked. "What did he say?"

* * *

_"Gax, what were these prototypes made from? What did I come from?"_

_The Aakon turned off the screen, upon which had been zigzagging lines to show 89P13's heartbeat. He began plucking out the wires and needles that had been inserted into 89P13's arms, harsh enough to let him know that he'd managed to upset his creator. "Enough of your questions about them. You are not to ask about them again."_

_"But it's important. I came from them!"_

_"What did I just tell you?"_

_89P13 weighed up the pros and cons of pushing the topic any further. Finally, he lowered his head. "You don't want me to ask any more about them."_

_"That's right. And you won't disobey me..." Gax pushed in the last remaining needle, just enough to make 89P13 cry out. "...will you?"_

_"No! Ow!" The needle was removed and he rubbed his arm quickly. He could feel warm, sticky blood on his fingers and licked them without thinking._

_"Hey!" Gax slapped his hand away. "Don't lick your hands like that."_

_"Can I ask why?" 89P13 asked, with sarcasm. "Or am I banned from asking any questions ever again?"_

_Gax glared at him. "You shouldn't lick your hands because they might have harmful bacteria on them," he answered both pointedly and coldly. "Get rid of that attitude or I'll get rid of it for you." He didn't give 89P13 a chance to retort as he made his usual move of grabbing under his arms. "You're finished for today."_

_Finally. Time to go back home. He could feel his heart thudding lightly in his chest. "Gax," he said as he was placed inside the safe confines of his cage. "Gax, is my heart mine?"_

_"All your organs belong inside you, yes."_

_Was that a real answer? 89P13 wasn't so sure. He knew how dangerous it was to keep asking about them, but he wanted to know about these things he had come from. Before his creator could walk out of the room, he called out; "Why can't I ask about them?"_

_The Aakon stopped dead in his tracks. He turned slowly and the doors that had slid open to allow him out snapped shut. "What was that?"_

_89P13 could feel the tip of his tail against his ankles and he held his wrist tightly to keep from feeling so frightened. "I don't understand why you don't want me to ask. You like questions."_

_Gax stood above him, staring at him through the bars. "I told you not to ask about them. You know what happens when you go against my orders."_

_Instinctively, 89P13 held both of his hands to his chest. "I didn't do anything wrong!"_

_His creator raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Are you lying now, too?"_

_89P13 shook his head._ "I'm _not the one lying." He was right. He knew he was right._

_"You need to think about the way you choose to behave, 89P13." Gax reached for the light switch and rotated it. The bulbs grew bright, so bright that both 89P13 and his creator flinched. "I'll be back in the morning."_

_89P13 covered his eyes, but even his hands did nothing. "Gax, I can't sleep with light like this!"_

_"Then you'll have the whole night to think."_

* * *

"Nothin' much. He deprived me of sleep, but it wasn't the worst thing he ever did to me for fuckin' up." Rocket forced his mind away from that sleepless night - one of many - and rubbed one of his ears. "I remember one time, he threw me into boiling water for trying to take a grape from his pocket."

Drax's head turned suddenly as he took in this information. "He did what?" 

Rocket shrugged. "Even that wasn't the worst. It was just one of the worst." It was also the reason why he preferred cool showers to hot. "I don't know why you're all so surprised. You already knew he was an asshole."

"Well, sure," Kraglin said. "But there's bein' an asshole and there's throwin' a child into boilin' water. You don't do that to kids."

"I wasn't a kid. I was a weapon in progress."

 _"He_ tell you that?" Kraglin asked softly.

Rocket laughed shakily. "Who the hell was _I_ to argue? As far as I knew, that's what I was. Wasn't until I met Groot that I even began to think that I could be a little more than a weapon. Didn't like the fact I was one and I used to tell Gavaar that. Then he'd beat me for being uncooperative. It got to the point that I was so used to getting punished even when I did nothing that I figured I'd better make the pain worthwhile." He laughed again, more for real this time. "It meant I got hurt really bad sometimes, but it was worth it to see the panic in his eyes when I fought his authority or purposely failed something." Of course, purposely failing tests were often the worst ideas he'd ever had. "He used to 'fix' me when I failed things. He'd take me away to that table, bind me down, cut open whichever area had failed and go to town. Sometimes, I think he knew that I'd failed on purpose and giving me surgery was his way of punishin' me." Rocket scratched his arm. "Never used no painkillers. Didn't even have the courtesy to knock me out. The only thing he did was make sure I didn't die from the pain by developing some kind of drug for me. Or maybe he stole it, he always was kinda shady about it..." He cleared his throat. He could still feel the bite of the electronic collar around his throat. "I wanted to get out, but it would have been too easy for him to find me again. At the time, I was trackable."

"Collars." Lylla gestured to her own throat. "I remember you still had the scars."

"Give it a week and you might be seeing 'em again." The Zune's album stopped and Rocket found another for Groot to listen to before continuing. "Didn't stop me from tryin' to think up ways to get outta there. Then, one day, I had a neighbour next to me. Didn't have no warning or nothing, just woke up one day and there was this guy of some weird species I never knew existed. He wasn't a thing like me and he wasn't an Aakon or a Gunavian or anything, but there he was, in a cage that was a little too small for him." Just in case none of them realised who he was talking about, he explained. "That was Groot."

Mantis looked toward the baby, her eyebrows lowered in thoughtful confusion, but she didn't interrupt.

"Nobody understood him. I did. So we became friends and started trying to plan ways to escape. Because he was the last Flora Colossi, the scientists were fascinated by him and he found himself under the ownership of a real bitch named Lesa Barounn. She wasn't as big a dick as Gavaar was, but she was close enough. Groot managed to steal her tablet from her and hid it, so we could map out Halfworld. We could also see files and open our cages with it." This was the only part of his story that he really liked. The story of how both he and Groot had saved each other. "It took a long time to get out," he admitted. "You escape most prisons out here and they won't kill you, but we had no weapons and we both knew that we only had one shot to get out alive."  
At least, Groot had. Gavaar wouldn't have killed his little test subject, but he wouldn't have hesitated to kill Groot. "So it took a while. I managed to convince Gavaar that Groot needed time outside in the sun and he faked sick like you wouldn't believe. Lesa wasn't too happy about takin' him out because they'd had a little disagreement and he nearly tore her nose off, but she had to. So Groot could tell me where to find the shipbay." Glancing down at the son his best friend had left him to love, Rocket smiled briefly. "Just because I had a friend didn't mean Gavaar quit messin' around with me. He, ah, he broke a lot of my bones in one of his physicals. Dropped me from two hundred feet with the promise that I wouldn't die. He was right, I guess, but it didn't stop my bones cracking open. I don't know if you've ever had fourteen bones break all at the same time, but it _really_ fucking hurts."

"Two hundred feet," Gamora repeated quietly. "You could have broken your skull. You could have died."

"What can I tell you? He was fucking crazy. So, I was out of action and it meant I was free of him for a couple weeks while my bones mended. He usually helped my breaks and fractures along, but this time, they were left to heal alone. Turned out, he had an idea. An improvement. He wanted to infuse my bones with metal to make me strong." Invincible. That was what Gavaar had said. "He did that to my spine. Worst pain I'd ever been in. And I knew that once he started it, I wouldn't be able to move and I gave up on the idea of ever getting out of there. That was when Groot told me this number to find on the tablet. I saw this...this thing. This animal and I asked him why he wanted me to find it and he told me that I'd had a mom..." Rocket swallowed against a hard lump that had grown in his throat. "He didn't tell me before 'cause he thought I wouldn't believe him. Kinda hard to deny somethin' when it's obvious and I figured that even if we both got killed, anything was better than sticking around." He stopped. He wasn't so sure if he wanted them to know the rest of it - how he had tortured and mutilated his creator in a moment of madness. But Gavaar had _deserved_ it. He hunched his shoulders and looked down. "We, uh, we got out of our cages and found somewhere to get our collars off. Then...then... we got found." He moved his hand to rub at the back of his neck, claws scratching harshly into the skin beneath his fur. _"He_ found us."

Six pairs of eyes trained themselves on him. Anticipation, dread, concern...but there was also understanding. That whatever had happened, it was okay. Because, really, what other choice had he had at the time?

"So, um..." Rocket could feel one of the external cybernetics at the bottom of his neck. He scratched around it. "He tried to stop us, but he couldn't physically do it. So he tried suckin' up to get to me instead. I told him that I knew about my mom and he told me she was aggressive, like she deserved to get her head smashed in." Scratch, scratch, scratch against the exposed skin. He could feel blood against his fingertips, but he didn't stop. He couldn't. "I wanted to hurt him. Not kill him. _Hurt_ him." He was hurting himself as he spoke, but he ignored it, even as his claws embedded themselves into his flesh. Oh, God. What was he doing? He didn't need to tell them any more than he had, right? There were things he couldn't let them know. "I don't want to talk about it any more."

"I know." Lylla reached out, holding onto his hand. "I know it is hard, but you know how unhealthy this is. Please tell us."

"He found you." Gamora reminded him, her voice in a careful tone. "How did you guys get away from him?" 

"Groot held him steady. I, uh..." Rocket tensed, glancing down at the sapling peacefully sleeping on his lap and gently removed him, setting him on a pillow. Once his son was out of the way, he brought his legs up and crossed them, keeping his eyes low. He couldn't look at the others. "I lost my fucking mind."

"What happened?" 

Rocket shifted. He managed to look up just a little. "I wanted him to feel how I felt. I meant to use a knife, but his blood got on my hands and I.."  He stopped again. "I can't. Lylla, I _can't."_

"Yes, you can." Lylla promised. "You can do it."

"You don't understand. The things I did to him, the things he said-" 

"So help us understand. You know you need to tell us whatever happened that day. Whatever happened, we know that it was not your fault."

"I didn't mean for things to get out of control like they did." Rocket kept his head low. He couldn't possibly make eye contact with anybody. "I just lost my fucking sanity for a couple minutes and in that time, I  disembowelled him with my bare fucking hands and just _became_ him."

"How do you mean?" Drax asked near silently. "What did you do to that tyrant?" 

"I did all kinds of horrible shit, Drax. I even put my muzzle on him-"

Quill jolted as if he'd been stung. "Why the hell did you even have one?" 

Rocket tilted his head at him in thought. "Well, Quill, it had exactly two uses. Firstly, it was for use in surgeries to keep me quiet-"

* * *

_89P13 didn't want to go into the operating room. He didn't like anything about it - the smells, the bright white, the cold air, the buzzing and sawing of instruments. He tried struggling, he tried pleading, he tried holding onto things in an effort to make his creator see that surgery wasn't an option today, but all it got him was a long zap and the threat of a beating if he continued hindering their journey. "Gax, Gax, Gax, Gax," he begged repeatedly. "Gax, please! I don't want to! Gax!"_

_"Shh."  Gax placed him down on the painfully cold silver table. "You need to stop panicking or you'll make this more unpleasant than it needs to be."_

_It was already unpleasant enough. 89P13 dragged his hands over his eyes and peeked through his fingers at the Aakon. "I don't want to," he repeated. "Gax, please, don't cut me open. I don't want to feel it. Please, Gax, it hurts!"_

_"You certainly screamed enough the last time."_

_"Of course I screamed. It hurt, like I said."_

_"Well...There_ is _a way that I can help you to stop screaming each time."_

_There was? 89P13 took his hands off his eyes. "What is it, Gax?"_

_"It's called a muzzle and it's designed to help people when they misbehave."_

_"Wasn't misbehaving." 89P13 mumbled. He got a pinch on his ear for that, but he soon forgot about it as his creator held out something with worrisome leather straps and bars of metal. He was allowed to hold it and touch it, having no idea how much he would come to hate and fear the object in the weeks to come. "This will help me?"_

_"Yes." Gax spun him around and fastened it over his face, ignoring the alarmed pants that came with his actions. The buckles were tightened around his head and it held his snout so he couldn't physically open his mouth. He was pushed onto his back and was soon looking up into calm hazel eyes. "Suits you. Put your arms out."_

_89P13 felt trapped by the muzzle. He put his hands over it, just able to feel his dry nose and panted heavily. He tried to speak, but only senseless whimpers came out._

_"That's it. So much better, don't you think?" Gax took one of his arms, securing it to the table._

_Hot tears formed in 89P13's eyes and he tried to stop his other arm from being taken too. He could hear the scrape of metal against metal and felt the tears spurt down his cheeks. This wasn't helping! "Mmm! Mmm!" He shook his head, trying to get the message across that he wanted the muzzle off. But Gax didn't listen. He simply said "Tsk" and carried on. A blade carved open his right arm and he screamed. Tried to. The noisy part built up inside until it felt like his head and his entire chest would explode and it didn't take long for him to black out._

* * *

"-And he realised that it came in pretty damn useful for when he wanted teachin' me one of his lessons."

* * *

_"Thirty eight seconds." Gavaar looked down at him disapprovingly. "You've gotten slower."_

_"I'm operating on zero hours sleep here." Under his breath, 89P13 muttered; "You frickin' moron."_

_"That's not very nice."_

_"I don't care." He just wanted to go back to his home and go to sleep. He rubbed his knuckles over his eyes and yawned. "I can't do any better today. It'll be better tomorrow."_

_"When your buyers-"_

_"Oh, please, shut up about the stupid buyers."_

_"What have I told you about attitude?"_

_"I said 'please', didn't I?"_

_Gavaar didn't answer. He grabbed 89P13 by the back of his neck and went to the basin, turning the blue tap before shoving his head under the running water._

_89P13 yelped at the icy cold. The faucet was unleashing water so quickly that it pounded at his skin and the sharpness of a needle. It didn't last long, but he was shivering violently when he was finally released from the impromptu shower._

_"Feel more awake now?"_

_He did. But now he was very, very angry. He squared his small shoulders and clenched his tiny fists._ Fuck _you!"_

_Gavaar stared at him with shock in his eyes. "What did you just say?"_

_"Fuck you! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you..." 89P13 repeated the two words like some sort of chant. He found them very pleasant to say._

_"Stop saying that! That's completely unacceptable behaviour!"_

_"Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you..."_

_"I'm not having this. I refuse to stand here and be insulted by someone who's barely a foot tall!" Gavaar turned away from him and started looking through a drawer._

_"Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you..." 89P13 insisted. He didn't care what his creator did next. He was too exhausted to care. Even when he saw the muzzle, he kept saying the words his creator hated so much. If anything, he said them louder and much more clearly, knowing that he didn't have long to say them._

_Gavaar slipped the muzzle over his face, stopping the words. The piece of long metal protruding from the cage was pushed at until the coldness of it and the sharp barbs were pressing down on 89P13's tongue. "Anything else to say?"_

_In answer, 89P13 held up his middle finger._

_"I see." Gavaar said calmly and he grabbed the finger before 89P13 could retract it and twisted it slowly until it popped out of the socket._

_89P13 screamed. Rather, he tried to and this new pain made him catch his tongue on the barbs and he gave a muffled yelp as blood began to trickle from the corner of his mouth. With his uninjured hand, he tried to get the cursed muzzle off, but he couldn't unbuckle it._

_"Are we going to have any more problems today?"_

_89P13 swallowed a mixture of his own blood and saliva and looked down at the floor. He was still angry with his creator for being so unfair, for his many rules and for the pain he so freely inflicted on him. Silently, he shook his head. The electrical stick cracked against his thigh and he cried out, drawing more blood from his tongue. He looked into his creator's eyes, completely bewildered. He'd agreed to behave, hadn't he?_

_"Look at me when I'm talking to you."_

_89P13 reluctantly met the Aakon's cold hazel eyes._

_"Are we going to have any more problems today?"_

_Again, 89P13 shook his head._

_"That's better. Is your tongue bleeding?"_

_This time, 89P13 nodded his head._

_Gavaar nodded. "Good. You can have the muzzle off when your timing has improved."_

* * *

"So, yeah, he got to try the muzzle. Didn't seem to like it much, 'specially when it made his tongue bleed like it used to make mine."

Peter looked murderous. "That son of a bitch."

"Yeah. So, he got the muzzle. And then..." Rocket tensed and shivered. "Then I cut him open for the first time. Picked up a scalpel and drew a line from his collarbone to his navel." Everyone shifted forward to listen closely. "And then...then I got some of his blood on my hands and I lost it. Next thing I knew, I was tearing his flesh apart with my bare fucking hands, biting him... It got very messy."

Drax nodded his head with the air of a man who knew exactly how messy disembowelling someone bare-handedly could be. "What happened after this?"

"We talked. I cut the muzzle off and we talked. I asked him about my mom. I just wanted to know if she loved me, like Groot said she did."

"What did Gavaar tell you?" Lylla asked.

"He stalled as much as he could, but he admitted it. And I asked him why he'd lied to me. He'd always told me that he'd made me by himself and I didn't understand why he lied. All he said when I asked him why he lied was 'I did make you'." But Rocket knew better. "He couldn't stop that lie."

"Sometimes when you lie to yourself constantly, you end up believing that lie to be true." Mantis explained. "Maybe this is what happened."

"Maybe." Rocket took in a deep breath. "I told him that he made my life hell and even he couldn't deny that. Know what he said? 'It was never anything personal'. But I don't get it 'cause how could it have possibly been anything else? You don't hurt people you care for, not like that, not like he did..." Heat was growing behind his eyes and he sniffed. "Something seriously fucked up must have happened to him in his life for him to treat me the way he did. But that wasn't my fault. I didn't deserve him." And there was 89P09. He closed his eyes, feeling tears fall. "We didn't deserve him. And I really let her down. She lay down her life for me and I repaid her by poisoning myself. I let my mom down, I really let her down..."

"No, you did not." Lylla shook her head. "Listen to me. I promise you that you did not let her down. If she was here now, she would understand why you did it."

"But she's not. And I don't even know how she would react to this, because I don't know her." He didn't know her touch, he didn't know her scent, he didn't know her. And he would never know her. "I couldn't even kill him to avenge her. And he was right to call me a little monster before I left him, 'cause what the hell kinda son can't even avenge his own mother?"

"Oh, Rocket." Lylla placed her tablet to one side and, for the second time ever, pulled him into her arms.

He tensed at first, because they had never touched, not like this, only Groot had ever been allowed to hug him. Not for the first time, he was struck by how much smaller she was than him. Then he realised. Lylla may have been a different species and she may have had a different scent and unique skills, but she was exactly as tall as 89P09 had been. Air expanded his lungs and he wrapped his arms around her smaller frame. He couldn't hide the sobs, but she simply held on all the tighter, even as he turned her robe wet with his tears. He could feel other things too. Drax's fingertips on his head, Gamora's hand on his shoulder. He didn't deserve any of them, he decided, as he inhaled deeply to try and calm down. 

"He was never right." Quill's voice floated down from somewhere. "He was never right, not once. He wasn't right to hurt you, he wasn't right to do the things he did and he sure as hell wasn't right to kill your mom and not even give you a memory of her to hang on to. But you know what else isn't right? Thinkin' that it was your duty to kill him for what he did. That's not what people do for their moms. They appreciate 'em. They love 'em. Maybe you can't love yours. That's okay. But I know you appreciate her and that's good enough."

Rocket could feel Lylla nodding in agreement. If she thought so, too, maybe Quill _was_ right. He thought of 89P09, how it should have been her he was holding. But his mother wasn't there. He simply had a Lontra who seemed to hold a soft spot in her heart for him. He both loved and appreciated her. How could he not?

"Remember what I told you about bonds?" Gamora took away her hand, the tips of her fingers ghosting past his back, sending tingles up his spine. "They're strong. Whatever did or didn't happen that day wasn't your fault."

Again, Lylla nodded. He wondered why she didn't speak, when he remembered. She had needed to give up her tablet to hold him. She had given up speech in order to comfort him and he loosened his grip in case she wanted to pick up her tablet. She didn't. She was quite content to remain holding him. "You're Groot's grandma, y'know," he whispered into her rounded ear. "I told him that you were. 'Cause you've always been like a mom to me." Silence again. But then he heard a sniff and just as he began to worry, she squeezed him, voicelessly giving her approval. He closed his eyes in relief and rested his jaw on her shoulder. He didn't feel like each and every one of his problems were solved. But now Gavaar didn't seem so scary. He no longer felt so real. And even if he did, he was safe. He had his entire family around him.

And, if all went well, he would never physically see Gavaar again. 


	18. Chapter 18

He turned the blue card over in his hands, the brown of his eyes occasionally reflected in the bright silver of the lettering upon it. He knew it was better to call the doctor sooner rather than later. It just sucked that it had to be done. And there was another matter. He pulled the memory chip from his pocket and considered it. There was no doubt in his mind that his entire history of cybernetics and all the other medical stuff was on there. But she would have to read through everything. She would know _all_ of it.

Still, what was one more person?

He lifted Lylla's arm from where it was curled around his waist and climbed over the small mountain of Drax's chest before jumping to the floor and finding the calling screen. He glanced back at the others, who were piled up on and around each other in a mad tangle of limbs. It was going to be funny when they woke up. Rocket had a suspicion that at least two would end up falling over themselves. Pressing the numbers into the keypad, he didn't have long to wait until the Xandarian came into view. "You free today or what?" he asked her after a brief exchange of useless pleasantries.

"Yeah, until the evening. Did you want to find a room?"

Oh, for the big day. Rocket had almost forgotten all about that. He nodded. "Mmm. Okay. Where can I find you?"

"If you prefer, we could meet outside of the hospital first." Faiix suggested. "It might be a little easier than just going directly in."

Rocket wasn't too happy with the idea of going into the hellhole to meet the woman. At least this option was somewhat easier. "Fine by me. See you in an hour."

Faiix smiled and waved a hand at her screen. "Bye!"

Rocket disconnected the call with a distracted sound and looked at his family, considering which one to take. He could see Drax's enormous hand dangling off the edge of the bed and decided that he was as good a choice as anyone. He grabbed hold of Drax's pinky finger and his index and pulled. "Drax! Wake up!" Annoyingly, the man stubbornly stayed asleep. "Drax," Rocket insisted. "Wake the hell up!"

Without saying a single word, Drax raised his arm, bringing Rocket up with the movement. Worse was to follow as he then pulled him close and began petting his head, in an apparent effort to make him go to sleep. Normally, Rocket _loved_ being petted. But now wasn't the time and he was determined for Drax to know it. Finally, after being called a lazy jackass, Drax opened his eyes. _"Please_ go back to sleep," he said with the tone of a desperate man. "I'm tired."

"You are not a morning person, are you? Come on, I need you to meet the doctor with me."

"Oh." Drax released him and got to his feet. "I will be ready soon."

"Great. I'm getting dressed." Rocket looked through the closet drawers for clothes and went into the bathroom. He was glad that the only mirror was above the basin and, so, he couldn't see the full extent of damage inflicted upon him. All the same, he touched his external 'collarbone' and twisted his body to see the shining silvery nubs on his back. He'd not known quite how much of a hideous freakshow he was until he'd left Halfworld. He zipped the jumpsuit up and pulled up the collar to try and hide the 'collarbone' and went out to join Drax.

* * *

The first words out of Drax's mouth when he saw Faiix weren't "Hello" or "How are you". They were an astounded; "You're miniscule!"

Rocket couldn't exactly disagree with Drax. The woman was barely a foot and a half bigger than he was and he was barely nudging three feet in height. He waved up at her, feeling slightly at ease that she really wasn't so big and bad. "Hey."

"Hi," Faiix afforded him a bright smile and then raised her head to look at Drax. "Blame my mom. I got all of my height from her."

"She must have resembled a _moon_ whilst she was bearing you," Drax said in wonder.

"I'll be sure to tell her that. It'll make her day." Faiix adjusted a string of multi-coloured beads around her throat and then focused her attention on Rocket. "Okay, have you decided on who you want to be with you on the day?"

He was damned if he knew. He would start thinking about it seriously as soon as this godforsaken tour was done. "Not yet. Can we get this over with now?"

"Of course we can. There's eleven levels in this building. Do you prefer it to be on the higher levels or closer to the ground?"

"Higher." Just in case some jerk tried to climb in through the windows while he was sleeping. Less chance of it happening if he was higher up.

"There's four rooms, one each on levels nine, seven, six, four and ten. Do you prefer an elevator or stairs?"

"Elevator." Less chance of someone trying to shoot him from above and if it did decide to stop, he knew how to get out of it. "Start from ten?" Faiix smiled and walked beside them toward the hospital entrance. She didn't mind when Rocket found himself hesitating before finally stepping in. The hospital smelled like all kinds of things - nutritious foods simmering in the canteen, people with their scents of blood sweat and other bodily fluids, strong disinfectant and flowers from gifts brought for sick friends and family. It wasn't a bad smell. Still, his ears picked up noises - heartbroken crying, joyful laughter, worried conversations and shrill screams. He wasn't so sure about the sounds he could hear.  
The elevator was a large square made up of four wide slats of mirrored glass. The metal pillars were illuminated by small discs of light that gradually changed colours. The floor was metal too, but it was clean and not quite so cold as the floors in Halfworld. It was almost nice. The doors slid open and he stepped out, looking to the doctor for guidance. "Where do we go?"

"It's just here," Faiix pointed to a door some twenty yards away and followed him, pressing a key against a pad. "You and your family gets a key too," she explained. "For security reasons, we prefer to keep doors locked. If you choose, they can remain open."

"What if someone else gets a key?"

"The keys are designed to recognise whoever is holding them. I could take someone else's key and because it wouldn't know me, it would be useless to me." Faiix pushed the door open. "We use fingerprints or other markings which the keys identify. Like I said, you can choose to keep the doors unlocked."

It probably wasn't the worst idea, Rocket had to admit. What if he was lying there, weak and drugged up and someone came in? At least a locked door would provide some protection. He shrugged at the mention of keys and looked around the room with suspicion. There was a bed in the centre of the room, metal-framed, with wheels on its feet. It held a single pillow and a warm red blanket was tucked over the mattress neatly. He rubbed his wrist. "You, uh...you gonna do it on that bed?"

Faiix shook her head. "No. What usually happens is, I'll help the person go to sleep, make sure their pain relief is working, and then wheel them into the actual theatre, which is adjacent to this room. From there, I'll help them to the place they need to be, check everything is as it should be and then I'll begin." She pointed to a bronze-toned door Rocket hadn't noticed before. "It's in there. Behind that door is the scrubbing station - that's for my use and anyone else who will be in the room - and there's a door leading to the theatre itself."

Rocket inhaled deeply. "I don't think I'd like a tour of there," he said lightly.

"That's completely fine." Faiix turned her back on the door and gestured to the large windows. "There's a beautiful view from up here. On a clear day, you can see for miles."

"I ain't here on vacation," Rocket reminded her. 

"I know, but it helps when you have something nice to look at."

Rocket looked at the walls. They were white - like Halfworld - but not the dull, cold shade of the walls he'd known. These were brighter, easier on the eyes. Nonetheless,  he could barely suppress a shiver. "Real white in here."

"If the walls aren't very comfortable, we can pin up sheets to hide them."

"Why are hospitals always white?" It was the most boring of all the colours. He would never understand its popularity.

Faiix twisted one of her braids around a finger. "Well...I've never asked, but my assumption is that it's because it's easier to spot things like blood."

"That why doctors wear white stuff?"

"Yes."

Again, he cast his eyes around the room. He couldn't smell anything that put his back up and he couldn't really hear anything either. It wasn't too bad in the room, he guessed. He'd certainly been in worse, that was for sure. He stepped closer to one of the two large windows, noticing that they were both halved vertically. On the bright wall between the windows was a panel with four buttons, two red and two green. Two to open the windows and two to close. Neither window could open wide enough to let a humanoid in or out, but if the windows opened horizontally, anyone could come in if they wanted to while the window was opened. He could see Xandar's river, sparkling and blue between the fields of greens and yellows. "This is okay," he remarked.

"Would you like to see the other rooms?"

"Nah, this one's fine."

Faiix smiled and crouched down, taking a tablet from her pocket. "Can I take your fingerprints for the keys?" She looked up at Drax. "And yours if you're okay with it?"

Rocket pressed his palm to the screen of the tablet and watched as a turquoise line skimmed down the screen. It wasn't the first time his fingerprints had been scanned and somehow he doubted it would be the last time. A thought struck him. "Your nurses...any Aakons?"

"We do have Aakon people, but I can ensure that none of them go anywhere near you," Faiix promised as she scanned Drax's fingerprints onto her machine. She put it back into her pocket and stayed where she was, at eye level with him. "I need to get a blood sample," she said gently. "I can clone it for the procedure, so I only need a small amount. If you prefer, I can give you a syringe and a container rather than personally taking it."

Rocket hadn't considered the blood. Of course she needed supplies of it. When she started cutting, he was going to bleed faster than his body could replace what it was losing. "I can do it." He looked at the tablet's edge poked out of the top of Faiix's pocket and thought of the memory chip stowed safely away in his own pocket. "I found my files." No need to confess that he'd lied to her previously. "Can I save 'em to your tablet?"

"That'd be good." Faiix agreed and she held out her tablet to him, standing as he connected the chip and found his file. "Can I see you again tomorrow?"

"Uh huh." Once the save was complete, Rocket removed the chip and put it back where it had come from. "There's a lot to read through on there," he warned her. "And it ain't pretty."

"I understand." Faiix pocketed her tablet and followed him back to the door. "Can I get you the things you need for the sample before you go?"

Rocket stopped in his tracks and turned around to look at her. "Do what you want." It might not have sucked in the room, but he didn't want to stick around much longer in it.

Faiix went into the theatre room and returned quickly, holding a small clear tube with a short needle on one end. "It'll keep the sample fresh for a maximum of two days, but it would be better to have it here by tomorrow."

Rocket held the thing in his hands. "How's that tiny little thing gonna help?" He pointed at the tiny point that made up the needle.

"It goes through the top layer of your skin and essentially vacuums the blood. When the tube is around half-full, you can just take it out and it'll stop." Faiix explained. "Most people don't even feel it because it's so small."

Rocket wished that he'd had needles like that back in Halfworld. Would have been much appreciated rather than the skewers Gavaar used to ram into him whenever he damn well pleased. "Okay. See you tomorrow."

* * *

The needle was painless, but it didn't stop Rocket from flinching as it pressed into his forearm. The crimson of his blood filled up the vial and he pulled out the needle as it approached being half-full. Now he thought of it, what _had_ Gavaar used when he was operating? He'd certainly had no cloning technology, yet Rocket could recall seeing tubes of blood being fed into him as he'd lain on the operating table. He hid the vial in an ornamental box, where Groot hopefully wouldn't find it, and shut the lid before sitting back on the couch. His ears slightly pricked up, but then lowered as he remembered that Drax had declined to return to the room, stating that he had an important matter to attend to. 

It was too quiet. He activated the clones and curled up on the pillow with its Drax scent, listening to the ancient Terran music. Some of it was nearly forty years old. He couldn't imagine being around for such a long time, even if he knew it wasn't actually so long. It just seemed that it was. He was only six years old, after all. The door slid open and a quick glance told him that it was Drax. In his enormous hand, he was carrying a small rectangle. Rocket squinted at it. "What's that?" 

"It's for you." Drax said bluntly and he placed  it by Rocket's feet. "I assume that you had a tablet yourself once, for the memory chip."

How the hell had he figured that out? Rocket picked the tablet up and held it. It was small, but that just meant that it was easier to carry. He could hear a high-pitched beeping and opened the back to find a tracker. He removed it and disabled the thing before looking up at Drax. "Did you _steal_ this?" 

"It's previous owners left it perilously close to a fountain, so I had no choice, but to rescue it."

"When you put it like that, I guess you're right." Rocket took out the memory chip and then met Drax's eyes. "This is really mine?" 

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Yours aren't the only files on that chip, are they?"

Rocket looked away as he slotted the memory chip inside the tablet. "No," he sighed as he closed it back up. "Got others on there too. My brothers and sisters, my mom's... Groot's."

"I thought this might be true." Drax brushed his fingertips over the very tips of Rocket's ears and retreated back to the bed which had been haphazardly made up.

Rocket waited until Drax had lain down and then climbed up the bed. He stood on the man's chest, arms crossed, and gave him as stern a look as he could muster. "You didn't answer my question," he reminded Drax. "Why did you find the tablet for me?" 

Drax put his palm at the highest point between Rocket's shoulders. His eyes were closed with fatigue, but his touch was as steady and careful as ever. "It's important," he mumbled.

"I guessed that. Not like you to steal."

"Oh, what imbeciles give a small child an expensive item like that?"

Rocket didn't exactly disagree, but he pulled at Drax's pinky. "What's important?"

One of Drax's eyes flicked open. "It's important for you to remember that the beginning of your life wasn't one torment after the other. You had a lot of love, even there. I don't want you to forget that."

He wanted to argue. Ask _how_ he could forget. But he had forgotten 89P09. Not his fault, but he had forgotten her touch, her warmth, her love. He lowered himself to sit on Drax's chest, closing his own eyes as the man reached for his ears. "How do you remember?"

"Sometimes it isn't easy. But each day brings a reminder of the ones I loved before."

Rocket opened his eyes, looking at Drax whose own eyes were shut again. "Does it hurt?"

"Yes. But it's a worthy pain."

He could easily understand that. He felt that - a 'worthy pain' - each time he thought of Groot. "Drax, will you be with me when the doctor starts cutting me open?"

"Of course I will, if you wish for me to be there."

Rocket managed a smile which Drax, being half-asleep, didn't see. "I'm sure I do."


	19. Chapter 19

He could smell the light fragrance of Xandarian apples mixed in with the oil scent from his pillow. He raised his head, opening his eyes to see a copper-toned bowl flowing with the golden fruits on the table. He reached out for one and felt the firm curve of the apple fill his palm. A crunching sound filled his left ear and he turned his head to see Groot biting into one of the apples. "Hey. Not hanging out with one of the others today?"

Groot gave him a bright smile, and stood up, holding the apple in his arms. "I am Groot!" _'Daddy, look what I can do!'_ With that, he proceeded to stuff the entire fruit - stem, seed and core - directly into his mouth.

Any one of the others would have freaked out, but Rocket knew that Flora Colossi didn't rely on only their lungs to breathe. Nonetheless, he reached for the stem which poked out of Groot's mouth and pulled the apple free. "That's real smart, Groot, but don't go hurting yourself."

"I am Groot!" _'I won't, Dad!'_ Groot insisted and he took his breakfast back and resumed eating it the correct way. Then he wanted the core of Rocket's apple and ate that too. "I am Groot?" _'Can we do something fun today, Dad?'_

He had to go and see Faiix at some point with his blood sample. But he could go later on in the afternoon. Right now, he was sorely overdue some time with Groot. "Sure we can. What did you have in mind?"

Groot hesitated. "I am Groot," he admitted. _'I don't know yet.'_

Just like his father. Rocket's best friend had been just as thoughtful on what to do with his time. Rocket smiled and rubbed the sapling's head. "Think about what you want to do. I'm going to shower." He still smelled uncomfortably like hospital.

"I am Groot." _'Daddy, don't take_ forever.'

"Do I look like Quill to you?" Rocket offered him another apple. "I'll be fifteen minutes, tops."

Groot ignored him in favour of attacking his apple, tearing off chunks from the golden fruit as if he'd never eaten before. 

Ever since he'd been thrown into scalding hot water, it filled him with dread to be submerged once again in boiling heat, so he opted for lukewarm water at most when he had the privilege of access to a shower. He cautiously brushed his fingers through the streams of water, glad to find them closer to being cold than hot, and started the laborious task of unbuckling his jumpsuit pants. The vest he slept in, he folded and tucked out of view. Then he stepped underneath the rapid fall of water, closing his eyes as the top layer of his fur became drenched. His bottles of shampoo and the conditioner he only used a small amount of (it puffed his fur up, even if it did feel good), he found by touch alone and he began lathering, filling the air with the scent of Drenian peaches. 

It was so much nicer than the clinical soap Gavaar used to pour on him. That stuff had sometimes hurt Rocket's hands when he'd lathered it. 

He let the water rinse out all the suds and then reached for his conditioner. More peach scent. Then he reached for the button to stop the shower and the water stopped. His towel was on top of the clothes he was planning on wearing for the day and he grabbed it, roughly towelling dry. The underlayer of his fur could be a bitch, it soaked up water and retained it like it was designed to do it, but today the underlayer behaved and he was half-dressed when the sound of little wooden fists banging against the door alerted him to the fact that Groot wanted his attention. 

"In a minute!"

"I am Groot!" _'Daddy, come out!'_

"Hang on!" Rocket called back, grabbing the top part of his jumpsuit.

"I AM GROOT!" _'DAD!'_ Groot screeched and it was the sheer panic and terror in his son's voice that sent Rocket sprinting to the door, abandoning the rest of his clothing. Groot's large gold-hued eyes stared up into his and he held up his arms, totally unhurt, but tears were coursing down his face all the same. "I am Groot!" _'Daddy!'_

Careful to avoid grabbing underneath his child's arms, Rocket scooped him up, holding him steady. "Hey, come on... Everything's fine."

"I am Groot!" _'No, it's not! There's a secret and I don't know what it is! And you took sixteen minutes!'_

"If you don't know what the secret is, how do you know there is a secret?"

Groot gave him the exact same look Gamora often gave out when some poor fool attempted to trick her. "I am Groot!" _'There is, and I know there is!'_ He let Rocket gently wipe away his tears. "I am Groot?" _'Daddy, what's going on?'_

Rocket's instincts screamed at him to lie. Just so he wouldn't have to explain to his son the godawful truth of the matter. But to lie to his own child... It was impossible. How would he like it if Groot lied to him? He looked away from him momentarily and when he looked back, Groot's eyes were facing downward. He was looking at Rocket's external collarbone. Before his kid could start up any awkward questions, he placed him onto his shoulder, feeling tiny fingers grip onto his ear tightly. Goddamn, he was _strong._ "How did you even figure there was something?"

"I am Groot." _'Something isn't right,'_ Groot explained. "I am Groot?" _'Do you know what I mean, when something feels really weird?'_

"Yeah." Felt it all the time when he had been young. He'd hated that feeling of being constantly on edge, the uncertainty. "I didn't mean to put you through it. I'm sorry."

"I am Groot?" _'So, there is something?'_

There was no other way around it. He'd already scared the kid half near to damn death. He owed Groot the truth. "Yeah, there's something. I was kinda hoping that maybe you wouldn't notice."

Groot pulled at his ear slightly too hard. "I am Groot?" _'Daddy, what is it?'_

Rocket took hold of his tiny hands and pulled him from where he had been. "Don't go pullin' my ears like that! I can't make new ones."

"I am Groot." _'Sorry.'_

"It's alright." Rocket sank to the floor, leaning his back carefully against the most padded part of the couch. "So..." So what? What could he say? 'So, the guy who slaughtered my mom and then tortured the crap out of me kept hauntin' me after I got away from him, so I drank a lot and killed my liver. Don't be scared, but I'm going to have surgery in a couple days so I don't die.' Yeah, that would go down just great. He put his head in his hands, trying to think. A small hand reached for his 'collarbone' and he snapped out of his thoughts quickly to stop his sapling from touching it. "No, Groot. Don't you ever touch that."

"I am Groot?" _'Is this the secret?'_

Rocket felt like throwing himself out of the window. "No, it's not the secret. It's...do you remember those videos of your grandma?"

Groot nodded his head, his fingers now wrapped around Rocket's thumb.

"Well, when she was havin' me-" and those four others, but Rocket didn't want to further confuse Groot. He'd not mentioned them to his child before. "-she found herself in a really bad place with some...some really, really bad people. And one of these people hurt her so much that they killed her."

"I am Groot?" _'Why?'_

"Because he was an asshole." Rocket made sure that Groot couldn't accidentally catch his head on the exposed metalwork and held his smaller body close. "People don't always need a reason for doing bad things to others. And he did some really terrible things to me once my mom was gone. He did this," he pointed at the 'collarbone'. "And he did other things, stuff I don't want to tell you about."

"I am Groot?" _'Where is he now?'_

Air stuck itself in Rocket's lungs. "He's dead," he said finally, as if he would believe it if he said it. "He died. So we don't have to worry about him, right?"

Groot nodded. "I am Groot." _'Why is that a secret? You didn't do anything wrong, Daddy.'_

"I did. I was scared and did some really dumb things to try and forget the bad things that happened. You know how Daddy Peter gets really loud and laughs like a jackass when he drinks that Gunavian crap?"

"I am Groot." _'Yeah.'_

"That's because he's drunk and it makes him act a little different. But he doesn't drink a lot, right?"

"I am Groot." _'No, Dad.'_

"Before I ever met your dads or your mom, I used to drink a lot." Rocket couldn't meet Groot's eyes. "My friend, he told me that I was going to really hurt myself and I didn't listen to him. I thought I was going to be okay." He'd thought he was invincible. Stupid fucking moronic thing to think. "He was right. I did hurt myself."

"I am Groot?" _'You did? Where?'_

Rocket pressed Groot's hand to where the liver was. "Here. Something very important got damaged. I need to get it fixed."

Groot perked up. "I am Groot!" _'Grandma Lylla can fix it!'_

Oh, if only she could. "No, buddy. She can't fix it. I need to see a doctor about this."

"I am Groot?" _'Why didn't you get it fixed before, Daddy?'_

Why did kids need to ask such horrible questions? Rocket made eye contact with Groot again. "Because I'm scared of doctors."

"I am Groot?" _'Are you scared now?'_

"I have to do this," Rocket rubbed a knuckle against Groot's cheek gently. "It doesn't matter if I'm scared or not." Groot was what mattered. He would always be what mattered.

"I am Groot?" _'Dad, if you're scared, why are you doing it?'_

"I can't leave now. There's too much to do." He had too much to live for. Like the little sapling holding fistfuls of fur in his miniscule grasp. "The secret is that I need the surgery. I didn't want to scare you by telling you about it."

"I am Groot?" _'You'll come back, right, Daddy?'_

Rocket rested his jaw on the top of Groot's head as he hugged him, cradling the back of his sapling's head. "Of course I'll come back." He just hoped this was the truth. "How about you, me and your mom go see the doctor in a couple hours?"

Groot still eyed the 'collarbone' with curious eyes, but didn't attempt to touch it. A smile curved his mouth and he nodded, pressing his ear to Rocket's chest. "I am Groot." _'Okay, Daddy.'_

What the hell was he to do about Groot while he was in the theatre? He couldn't have the kid watch and to make him wait during the surgery would be paramount to torture. He scratched the back of his neck and then set Groot on his feet. "I'm going to get dressed and we'll go find Mommy, okay?"

"I am Groot!" _'I want to go get Mommy. I know where she's staying!'_ Groot declared, pointing helpfully at the door to show Rocket his planned route.

"Alright. Remember what I told you about strangers?"

"I am Groot." _'If they go near me, grab them in my vines and throw them far away.'_

"That's right. And?"

"I am Groot." _'And if they have any cool weapons, bring them to you.'_

Rocket smiled proudly. Sometimes, having a child came in really, really useful.

* * *

As soon as he stepped into the hospital, he found himself drawn inexplicably closer to Gamora's leg. He meant no disrespect to Drax, but somehow he felt just a tiny bit safer with the Zen-Whoberian. Having Groot on his shoulder helped too. He caught sight of Faiix who was leaning against a wall, holding a cup of some softly steaming liquid in her hand. She looked ill, her usually dark skin lightened so it looked almost pale. She took a long drink of her beverage and tossed it into a faraway trash can. As they got closer to her, he could see that her hands were shaking and her braided hair was haphazardly made up. "Faiix?"

Faiix straightened herself up and looked down at him. She tried to smile and Rocket realised that she was shaken up after whatever she had read about on the memory chip. She must have noticed how he broke eye contact, the way Gamora watched her steadily, because she reached out a hand to Groot as if she wanted to try and behave with complete normalcy. "Hello. What's your name?"

Rocket made eye contact with Gamora and they shared a smile that went unnoticed by the doctor who was obliviously trying to befriend the infant Flora Colossus. Little did she know that she had chosen the perfect question to ask him.

"I am Groot." _'My name's Groot.'_

"Hi, Groot! I'm Faiix. I have toys in my office. Would you like to play with them?"

Again, she had picked exactly the right thing to say. Groot's gold-amber eyes lit up and he pointed after Faiix excitedly as she headed through the milling people toward a door. "I am Groot! I am Groot!" _'Daddy, follow her! Daddy follow her!'_

"Jeez, who made you captain?" Rocket muttered as he obeyed the sapling's command. Nobody had ever told him that fatherhood meant being told what to do by something who wasn't even half a foot tall. Predictably, Groot made a direct beeline toward the toys Faiix gestured to. Within seconds, he broke one, but the doctor simply shrugged it off with a smile, watching as Gamora went to fix it back together.

The Xandarian sat behind her desk, interlacing her fingers. The skin around her nails was chipped at and raw in some places. "I made notes from the information you gave me, but I deleted the file." Faiix closed her eyes briefly. "It was...difficult to read and view."

"Yeah, well, I never read 'em myself 'cause I knew I wouldn't like what I saw."

Faiix blinked. "You don't know what's there?"

"I don't know what happened before he started messin' with my brain. The only thing I do know is that he must've started off with giving me the ability to talk because I can't remember a time when I couldn't speak."

The doctor nodded in confirmation. "I didn't realise just how much it must take for you to even talk to me."

"I'll be honest with you, I don't think my creator was a real doctor." Gavaar had just known what he was doing. 

"I suspect that too. There were some very risky procedures that, personally, I wouldn't consider doing." The Xandarian cleared her throat. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me, it was a..." She looked away. "I'm sorry."

"I know he did dangerous shit to me. Can we get off the topic now? I have blood for you."

At the mention of blood, Gamora stood from where she had been crouched by Groot and went to Rocket. He'd felt weird about carrying a tiny bottle of his own blood around and when she'd offered to carry it on his behalf, he'd not taken long to accept. She took a seat beside him and held out the vial. 

"It looks really healthy." Faiix remarked. "The technology I use can find out if there's anything for you to look out for. Would you like to know if there is?" 

"Yeah, okay." Rocket watched the red liquid - his lifeforce, as Groot had named it - slosh around in its clear container. "You ever figure out how he managed to do those surgeries without me dyin' of blood loss?"

"Are you sure you want me to tell you?" 

"Yeah. Tell me."

"He used your mother's blood," Faiix said gently. "After she died, he drained her body and he...he took out some of her organs."

"Do I have them?" He remembered what he had been told - that his organs belonged inside him, but that didn't mean that they belonged to him.

Faiix began picking at a loose piece of skin on her pinky finger. Her eyes weren't looking at him any more. "Not hers." After a nod of permission, she continued. "Your sibling's. She was harvested for her organs because the ones he was going to sell you to wanted a male. And she owned very healthy organs, most of which were transplanted into you."

"Which ones?"

 The skin tore, leaking droplets of black blood. Faiix reached for a box of tissues on the desk and pressed one against the flow. "Heart," she said. "Lung tissue. Pancreas. One kidney. And the liver."


	20. Chapter 20

Rocket could feel his heart beating. Only it wasn't his heart. It was his long-dead sister's. And he had completely destroyed her liver. He took in a deep breath. Exhaled slowly. He shrugged. "Okay," he said, like it meant nothing at all to him. "So that's what happened to her." She had been slaughtered and most of her had been put into him. God, he felt so wrong. "I'm not getting another actual organ, this time. What am I getting, a prosthetic or something, I guess?"

Faiix stared uncertainly at him, like she was expecting him to fly into a rage driven by fraternal love. When he didn't, she glanced at her hands once more. "Yeah, that's right. We're going to try and find some tonight, see which ones might be the best size and I was wondering if you might care to look at them tomorrow morning. After that, we'll work on finding a time for the treatment."

"Suits me. When all this is done, can I look at your cloning tech? It might come in useful for when we leave Xandar."

"That's fine by me."

Rocket could feel Gamora's eyes looking at him. He turned his head to see her watching him with a vaguely muted version of the expression Faiix was wearing. He jumped down to the floor. "Come on, let's get outta here. Where's Groot?" He saw Groot look up at the mention of his name and held out a hand to his son. "Come on. You can come back with me tomorrow if you really want. Let's go!"

Groot looked at the doll he was holding and tossed it in the air, the item landing on its undeniably ugly face with a thud. "I am Groot." _'It's kinda boring here, Dad.'_

"Yeah, I know." Rocket stayed still for Groot to climb his way up to his usual perch and looked back at Faiix. "I'll see you."

"I look forward to it." Faiix said and she returned Groot's wave with one of her own.

"I am Groot?" _'Dad, can we look at the flowers over there?'_

All Rocket wanted to do was go back to the room and find his tablet, but this was Groot and he deserved a couple minutes doing something he liked. "Whatever you want." Groot hopped down from his shoulder and zigzagged to the enormous cluster of plant life that made up a small centrepiece by the hospital entrance. Rocket watched from a distance as Groot ran through the leaves of giant ferns and long grasses, laughing gleefully as he did. 

"Rocket-"

"I don't want to talk about it, Gamora."

"Not here."

A counter offer? No, it was a bargain, he realised, and it was a bargain he needed to accept. He knew very well what he was going to do once he got his hands on his tablet. He would find the sibling who was forced to die for his benefit and he would watch what had happened. It was self-destructive, pointless. He didn't even know why he would do such a self-damaging thing. But it was him. And nobody knew him better than he did. "Not with Groot around." His only condition. 

"The Quadrant isn't far. Lylla will be in there and he can stay with her while we talk."

Rocket nodded, the motion barely noticeable. "Alright." He thought he could see a flicker of surprise in Gamora's eyes but chose not to comment on it. He just wanted to get the hell out of the hospital.

* * *

When they got back, Gamora didn't immediately start talking about the sibling Rocket had briefly known. Instead, she grabbed an apple from the bowl, used her smallest knife to slice it in two and sat on the couch, holding out half of the apple to him. "Here."

Rocket allowed her to place the fruit in his hands and joined her. He could smell its sweet juice and couldn't resist taking a small bite. Then another and another until he'd finished the thing, around the same time Gamora was done with hers. She rested her head back, looking upward and he watched her curiously, wondering why she was so quiet.

"What are you thinking?"

Rocket shrugged. "I asked him once if, uh, my heart belonged to me. He told me that all my organs belonged inside my body." He tossed the core of the apple into the trash can. "He didn't think to tell me that those organs came from the baby he killed." Gavaar hadn't broken 89P12's skull or drained her of her blood. But he had caused her to die. "I mean, I don't care. I never even knew her, so it's not like she _matters-"_

Gamora turned to face him better, crossing her legs. "It's okay," she said. "It's okay to be upset about her."

"I'm not. I don't care about her!" What did he care about the infant who had shared their mother's love with him? They had had one day together. That was it. One day and he would never know her or have a sister to love or hate or whatever. She had been gone for nearly all of his life and he definitely didn't care about her. Why would he? "She's nothing to me," he insisted, but the words sounded strange to his own ears.

Gamora kept her eyes on his. "She may not have been everything to you, but she was something."

"She's not anything now. Just a buncha meat in her little brother's body." Oh, god. What was he saying? He sounded just like one of them monsters in Halfworld. "Keepin' me alive." Even though he had owned perfectly decent organs at birth, it was her heart pumping blood through his body, it was her kidney working with the other, her pancreas giving him energy, her lung tissue taking in air and, worse of all, her liver he had wrecked beyond salvation. "I didn't know," he mumbled. "I didn't know it was _her_ I was hurting."

"It wasn't you who hurt her, Rocket."

Rocket shook his head. "No, Gamora. I can't blame Gavaar for this one." Not that he didn't want to, obviously.

"It wasn't you who removed her organs."

Rocket knew that was true. But he didn't mean the transplants from his sibling to himself when they had been fresh out of their mother's womb. "Wasn't him who forced booze down my throat every night for two years straight."

"You know why you did that." Gamora reached out a hand to smooth her palm over his head. She didn't often pet him and her technique left a lot to be desired. But it was nice, all the same. "Do you remember the scan of your organs that you took on the ship?"

"Didn't really look at the rest of 'em." Rocket admitted.

"I did. The other organs, they were all in green. Everything else that you had from her is in _perfect_ condition."

Rocket thought back to all the dangers he'd faced in the past six years. He looked at Gamora with uncertainty. "Are you sure?"

Gamora smiled and nodded, the dark waves of her hair falling over her shoulders. "I'm sure. I know what I saw. You're all good."

That was nice to hear. It didn't change the fact that his sister had been carved up and her organs had been sewn into him, but if he'd kept the other organs in good shape, maybe he wasn't such a terrible brother after all. "I wonder what else he did to them?"

"I think you're a lot better off not knowing." Gamora said gently. "There are some things that are better left unknown."

He would have felt a lot more at ease not knowing that his sister's heart had been pounding away inside his chest for nearly all the time he'd been alive. "Yeah." If he didn't know he wouldn't have to deal with it. He put his hand over where 89P12's heart beat, doing the job it was designed for in a body it had not been intended for. "What does belong to me?"

"More than you think." Gamora moved her hand down the back of his head. "You have most of your original organs. Including your brain." Before Rocket could mention that his brain had been played around with, Gamora started speaking again. "You've always had your own brain. That's never changed and that's what the most important thing is. Do you know why it's the most important thing?"

Rocket tried to understand what she was talking about. He couldn't. "No."

"Because the brain is where we keep memories, our knowledge. Our personality. You've always been you, Rocket. You've always had that."

"Not always."

Gamora pushed a strand of magenta-tipped hair from her forehead. "As long as you've been sentient, you've had your own mind. It helped you survive that monster. It helped you live after him. It helped you make a friend. It helped you grieve. It's helping you raise your child. And it's going to help you through anything else that happens. And so will we if you'll allow us."

Rocket took his eyes away from Gamora's. Silence fell until he exhaled softly. "I didn't mean what I said about my sister. I never used to think of her. Thought of my mom sometimes, especially after Groot was born, but not my sister. She was just this thing that had the bad luck to be born alive, like I did. It said in her files that she was sickly. How could she have been sickly if her organs were good enough for me?"

"It may have been a way for him to ease his conscience," Gamora pointed out, her voice soft. "From what you've told me, I don't think he would have risked anything that would have directly led to your death."

"No, you're right. You wouldn't have thought that about him, the way he used to beat the hell out of me when he felt like it, but he wanted me to be healthy because the fucking buyers wanted me that way." Bitterly, he added; "If it hadn't been for them, I probably would've died there. Been with my mom and...and my siblings." He gazed up at Gamora again. "But then I never would've gotten mixed up with any of you." No Groot, no Lylla and no Guardians. "And that would've been a real fucking shame."

Gamora smiled briefly and touched his hand with her fingertips. "I'm sorry about your sister."

"Do you think she would be upset if she knew what I did to her liver?" Gamora was an older sister. She would know.

"Absolutely not." Gamora promised and when she wrapped her arms around him, he didn't try to resist. "There's nothing to forgive here, not from you."

He wasn't so sure if she was right. But she was an older sibling and, in all honesty, the closest to an older sister he had. So he chose to believe her, this cyborg with multiple enhancements just like his. "Okay," he whispered. "But I'm still sorry about what happened to her. She didn't deserve that, not for anybody."

"Of course she didn't." Gamora rubbed his shoulder, knowing to avoid his back. "It shouldn't have happened to her."

They were thinking of both of their sisters. He was thinking of 89P12 and Gamora was thinking of Nebula. Of all people, it was really Gamora who understood the feeling of being the one to have caused a sister damage. But Gamora hadn't tortured Nebula and Rocket hadn't killed 89P12. It had been their tormentors. "You're a great sister," he told her. "Don't be stupid enough to forget that."

"Thanks."

Gamora sounded just a little too disbelieving for Rocket's liking. He would have to try and get her to realise that it was true. God only knew how hard that was going to be. Maybe there was something he could do. "Will you be there when I get the surgery?" Hopefully she would be okay with it. After all, she had been knocked out for her surgeries. She'd even had pain relief, on account of being the favoured of Thanos' daughters.

Gamora let him go and he was relieved to see that she was smiling, not upset or horrified at the question. "You're sure?"

"Positive."

"Yes, I'll be there." Gamora agreed. "And I'll be there when you wake up. I promise."

"I'll hold you to that," Rocket warned her. "I don't want to wake up alone."

"Good, because you're not going to." Gamora told him and this time he had no trouble believing her. She rubbed behind his right ear with her index finger. "Do you want music?" 

Rocket smiled up at her. "Do you really need to ask me that?" As she got up to find his clones, he took in a deep breath, running a palm over his sister's heart. No. His heart. The liver was close to it, whether by natural design or because Gavaar had made it that way. _'Mistakes happen,'_ he reminded himself. _'No need to beat yourself up over 'em like he used to.'_ Music began drifting through the air and he closed his eyes. It would take time to get used to the fact that some of him wasn't technically him, but he would be okay. What was important was the future, not what had happened in a time he couldn't remember. 

He still had one more person left to choose. 


	21. Chapter 21

"Pete, hurry up."

"I'm tryin' to tie my laces!"

"Why bother with shoes anyway?" Rocket had never seen the appeal himself. For one thing he had never found any shoes in his size. For another, he thought they were too constricting and time consuming.

"Because I've always had shoes."

Rocket tapped his foot impatiently. "Let me do 'em."

"No. You'll probably stick a grenade in one of them."

"I can't believe you think-" Rocket was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Quill, if you aren't done by the time I see who it is, I'm going to the hospital with Drax!"

"Uh huh."

Rocket pressed the pad to allow the doors to slide open. He felt a little more relaxed upon seeing Lylla, a small satchel slung over one of her shoulders. "Hey. You okay?"

Lylla smiled and held out the satchel. "I made you something."

"You did?" What had he done to deserve one of Lylla's creations? He was pretty sure he didn't need any more weapons. Still, it was always good to have plenty of defences. "Thanks." He accepted the satchel and looked inside out of curiosity. At first glance, it appeared to be a simple enough device, _suspiciously_ simple. No flashing lights, no timer, no buttons. He lifted it out of the bag to look closer. He could see ports for wires to go into and as he looked over the seamless metalwork, took in the shape, he realised what he was holding. "Lylla...is this...is this a prosthetic organ?"

Lylla nodded, glancing down at the floor. "Yes. I wanted to be sure you had something that would last and the only way I could be sure was to make something myself."

Rocket lowered the prosthetic. He didn't know what to say. What did you say to someone who gave you a new organ? 'Thanks' didn't exactly cut it. He reached for her with one arm, feeling her arms hook around his shoulders, careful to avoid his back. "I'll take care of it." He knew that it was a meaningless promise. Lylla had made it for him, after all, so it was undoubtedly built to last. "Thank you."

Lylla stayed in the hug for several moments before gently moving out of it. "Any time. Good luck today."

Before she could leave, Rocket brushed his hand past hers to gently gain her attention. "I wanted to ask you for a favour."

"What is it?"

"Will you take care of Groot while...?" Rocket gestured to where the prostetic would be going. "I don't want him waitin' around."

"Of course I can." Lylla waved at Quill and hit the button to leave the room.

Rocket closed up the satchel and met the Terran's eye. "What?"

"I can't believe that your otter mom made you a goddamn liver."

"You know what? Neither can I, but I ain't complainin'." Rocket slung the satchel over his shoulder. "You done with your shoes or what?"

"Yeah, I'm done. You know what we need to do when we're finished at the hospital? We need to make you a playlist."

"Why? I have-" Rocket stopped. It had been _days_ since they'd last listened to music together and he missed it. "Okay, that's not a bad idea."

"See? I have good ideas."

"I said it wasn't _bad._ That doesn't make it good."

* * *

Faiix was delighted to learn that he had acquired a custom-made liver. She held the organ in both hands, mouth slightly agape. "This is _remarkable."_ she wondered, her eyes full of awe. "An Uplift you know made this for you?"

"Yeah, she did. If you ever meet her, don't call her an Uplift, she hates the word."

Faiix nodded in agreement. "It's _perfect._ She must have worked really hard on it, a good prosthetic is difficult to make." She set it down and pushed back the dark braids of her long hair. "When do you want to set the date?"

"When can you do it?"

"Well, I can do it as soon as two days from now if you'd want."

Rocket looked at her hands. He thought of them gloved, holding scalpels and other torturous instruments. She would shave back the fur on his chest. She would slice him open. She would break his ribcage in order to get to the organs beneath it. She would cut out his sister's liver. She would place the new organ inside him. Maybe she would solder it to his veins. And then she would fix him back together. He knew what would happen. He knew very well. But he had to have it done. He'd come this far. He could go further. "And then it'll be all over?"

"Yes. You won't have a very long recovery period, aside from the ribcage and scarring. That will need to heal, but we own technology that will speed along that process." Faiix smiled, the sight reassuring. "And it's not invasive." 

Well, that was something. "I just want to get it over with." He felt like he'd said that a thousand times. And he did, he just wanted to be healthy again, no failed organs, no sacrificed siblings, just him, his family and a future he liked the look of. "Two days?"

"Two days."

Rocket wondered if he could get drunk in those two days. Somehow, he doubted it. "Okay."

"Before we go our separate ways for the day, I was wondering if I could give you paperwork. You'll probably want to take it back with you and bring it back to me either tomorrow or on the day. It's for you and a member of your family to sign." Faiix opened a drawer in her desk and held out a piece of paper toward him. Underneath a bunch of long-winded legal words, a single sentence jumped out;

 _In the event that I am not able to give my consent, I give ..................... my permission to make a medical decision on my behalf,_  
  
_Signed ............................................._

Rocket shrugged. "No need to take it anywhere. Pete, sign this."

Quill gave him a strange look, as if he was confused by the request, but obligingly wrote his name on the line. "What happens on the day?" he asked Faiix as Rocket scrawled his own name and then passed the doctor the slip.

"Well, you guys come in here, we go upstairs and get settled into the environment and then we'll start. It's a process, not a race, so it's okay if you need a few hours."

Oh, the poor naïve woman. He could spend an entire year in the hospital and not get 'settled'. Ah, well. "What are you going to do with my liver?"

"Don't worry. It'll be kept somewhere secure and sterile."

"No, I mean..." Rocket pointed at his chest. _"This_ liver. What'll you do with it?"

"Usually, we dispose of them. If you like, you can keep it."

"Yeah, don't toss it out."

Quill looked anxious, yet inquisitive. "Why do you want to keep it?"

"Always wanted to try liver, Quill."

"Gross, Rocket!" Quill shuddered. "Think of all the crap that's been through it."

"I'm sure you don't think that when you're eating someone's ass-"

"On that note," Faiix interrupted, closing her eyes as if attempting to rid herself of that mental image. "I'll see you in several days' from now."

* * *

_'...But maybe you ain't never gonna feel this way_

_You ain't never gonna know me, but I know you _...'__

"We're never going to be able to do this playlist, Quill." Rocket told him. He could hear the song from the earbuds which lay over Quill's chest as the man lay on the couch. Rocket had been sitting on his captain's abdomen for the past hour and had no intention of losing his seat. Terrans, he had learned, were very comfy.

"I'm still mad about the ass eating comment." Quill said pointedly. "Little jerk, embarrassin' me in front of the doctor like that..."

"Peter, you can't chase after a woman who's going to be carvin' me up in two days' time."

"I wasn't chasin' after her. I happen to think she's a very intelligent woman."

"Yeah, too intelligent for you."

Wordlessly, Quill gave him the one-fingered salute.

"Oh, come on, Pete! You can't be mad with me!"

"Why not?"

"Because I'm dying."

"Not for long." Quill rubbed behind Rocket's left ear. "But why waste time bein' mad?"

"That's right, Quill."

Quill managed a smile and then caught his eye. "Can I ask why you want to keep the liver?"

_'...I'm too weak to fight you_

_I got my own personal hell to deal with...'_

Pausing the Zune, Rocket stared at his hands for a few moments before making eye contact with Quill. "It's my sister's. Got a bunch of her organs inside of me." Rocket felt his shoulders tense as he spoke the words aloud. "Figure I could at least give some of her a decent goodbye."

"Do you feel bad about her, Rock?"

"Pete...she was killed just because I was what my buyers wanted and she didn't cut it."

Quill laughed humourlessly. "I know what that bullshit feels like."

 _Ego._ Rocket felt like kicking himself. Quill had had _thousands_ of half-siblings, ones he'd never known. Of course he knew what this was like. Hell, he probably knew better than anyone else did. "Do you feel bad about 'em? Your...do you, uh, count them as siblings?"

Rocket had been trying to ask delicately and somehow he succeeded. Quill didn't seem to be insulted or upset. "I can't deny who I came from. Yeah, I count them as siblings. And it makes me feel heartbroken to think of them, little kids, getting slaughtered by their father because they weren't 'perfect', but I didn't know them. I feel sad. Not guilty, not angry. Just sad." Quill sat up and surprised him by pulling him closer. "You can't blame yourself for what Gavaar, a grown man, did to you and your sister. You can't."

"She was bonded with him too. She must've been freaking out, calling for our mom to come save her...only she never did. What a way to fuckin' go." Rocket exhaled softly and peered up at Quill. "I don't blame myself, Pete. I just wish that things could've been different."

"Me, too." Quill sighed and he wrapped an arm around his shoulders, closing any distance between them.

Rocket put his hands on the Terran's chest, wanting initially to push back, but ended up grabbing fistfuls of the man's shirt instead. "I told him he didn't get to win," he whispered. "When I last saw him, before I stabbed his fuckin' eyes out. I was wrong, Pete. He's winning."

"He's not winning. You're raising a child, you're part of a family, you're getting medical help... If he was winning, there's no way you'd be doing any of that stuff." Peter shook his head. "I know it doesn't feel like it now, but one day, you won't think of him the way you're thinking of him. One day, you'll feel safe-" 

"I feel safe." Rocket interrupted him. "Feeling safe isn't the issue. It's him."

"One day you aren't going to feel so scared of him." Peter amended. "It won't happen overnight, but it will happen."

"I don't know if it will."

"I do." Quill said seriously. "If all good things have to end, so do all the bad things. He's not got such a hold on you any more, right?"

Rocket thought of the upcoming surgery, so close now. He thought of Groot who he loved with all of his being and the battle he had gone through to prove to himself that he was worthy of being the sapling's father. "Right."

"See? He's losing his power."

Rocket looked at Quill, the man with a dumb joke for every occasion, who danced like a clown whenever he damn well pleased and wondered how it was that, of all people, he could be so smart. "Will you be in the room with me when it happens?"

For the second time that day, Quill looked surprised. "You want me there with you?"

"That's kind of why I asked, you moron."

Quill half-smiled. "I'll be there if you want me to be." He reached for the Zune and pressed it into Rocket's hands. "Come on, seriously. We can't spend the whole of tomorrow pickin' out songs!" For the second time that day, Quill was right. Rocket had plans for tomorrow and they weren't plans that could be postponed or cancelled.

There was someone he needed to visit.


	22. Chapter 22

"Rocket's _missing?"_ Peter repeated, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Are you sure about this?"

"Do you see him with me?" Drax asked with the air of a man who was struggling to hold onto what little patience he had left. "I thought he was with Lylla, but she hasn't seen him. No one has."

"Where's the ship?" He hoped he was wrong in thinking that Rocket had gotten spooked and vanished.

"Where we docked it."

"Okay." He had never been so glad to be wrong. He thought hard. If he was an ex-alcoholic with a morbid fear of hospitals and a surgery scheduled for the next day, where would he go? "Check all the bars. Get the others to help you and let's hope he's easy to find."

"I suspect that he won't be, but I shall try."

It was a little past noon. Peter sighed and followed Drax out the doors into the sunshine of Xandar's triplet suns. He agreed with Drax. Looking for someone who had spent most of his life escaping and hiding was not going to be easy. Still, if they were lucky, they might just be able to find him before he caused himself any more damage.

* * *

Sitting at the base of the tree, just behind where Groot was buried, Rocket could hardly believe that it had been nearly six years since they'd left the place. No, it _had_ been six years. He would be seven years old in three weeks' time. He had been a little over eleven months old when he'd escaped Halfworld with Groot. Six years since he'd found freedom of doctors and he was facing another of the jerks. The universe had a really sick sense of humour, it really did.

But he'd made his choice. He wasn't going back on it now. How could he?

The rays of the suns were filtered through the teal leaves of the apple tree. A long, trailing thin branch decorated with those leaves and the bright fruits was dangling to his right. He reached for a leaf and, in a desperate attempt to taste the comfort he had lost after Groot died, bit into it. Instantly, he spat it back out. It was bitter, full of nutrients and undoubtedly very good for him, but it wasn't the same taste of Groot's leaves. How fucking stupid of him to think that they would be anything alike. He would never know the taste again.  
He looked at the grave, covered in soft green strands of grass, the roots growing down to the dead wood beneath the soil. Hard to imagine that his large friend was reduced to so little now. The lowest sun glinted through the gaps of the oval teal leaves of the apple tree and he shaded his eyes with his hand to try and protect them. A bright flash of silver caught his attention and he realised that it was simply the small pond, surrounded by its small grey pebbles and flat white stones. He stretched out his legs, feeling the green blades bend gently under his heels. The only thing that was really wrong was that he was alone. He'd not been alone the last time he'd enjoyed the feeling of grass beneath his feet. 

"Hi."

Rocket turned his head, surprised, but not displeased at who he saw. "What the hell are you doin' here?" 

Mantis tilted her head, the bulbous ends of her antennae swaying lightly. "I often come here for the pool."

"How did you even find this place?"

"I often wander at nighttime. I don't need much sleep." Mantis toed off her boots. "Everyone is looking for you," she said conversationally, strolling over to the pond. She dipped her foot in and then stepped in fully. "Why are you here by yourself?"

"It's a special place."

Mantis looked over her shoulder at him. "Would you like me to go?"

"No, you're okay." Rocket immediately regretted this answer as she pulled open her dress and dropped it to the grass, standing in only her pants. "Goddammit. Mantis, you can't just get naked in public. What if a bad guy saw you? He could...do things."

"He would not be able to." Mantis said serenely, her back still turned to him. "I could make him go to sleep. _Permanently."_

"Never would've thought you'd have it in you."

Mantis turned and sent a wave of clear water his way. "Ha!" she laughed gleefully upon drenching him. Then she started giggling, holding her hands over her mouth. "Oh, puppy, I'm sorry!"

"Payback," Rocket said, standing from the base of the tree. "Is a bitch." With that, he ran and jumped into the water, covering the Empath in water. The bottom of the pond was muddy and slimy and gross, but the water was cool and refreshing.

Mantis' eyes lit up. She dropped to a crouching position and instigated a water fight that involved weeds in her hair and his fur and ended when tiny little fishes flew onto the grass surrounding the pond. She delicately picked up each fish and put it carefully in the water where it disappeared in a flash of green. She reminded Rocket of the friend lying only a few short feet away from the pond. She noticed his watchful gaze and looked at him with cautious uncertainty. "What is it?"

"You just...remind me of someone." Rocket mumbled and he walked out of the pond, staring down at the grave. "Groot was like you. Saw the positive side in everything. Even me." 

Mantis joined him, her eyes cast down to the grave. "You miss him."

"Always will."

Mantis lifted her dress and fastened it back around her body. He was aware of her kneeling within arm's length of him and looked at her as her hand came tentatively closer. He knew what she wanted to do and nodded his head in agreement. The bulbs on her antennae glowed and she smiled while tears spurted down her cheeks. The glow dulled and she gently moved away the tears rolling down her jawline. "You feel grateful."

"He was always better than I deserved." Rocket crossed his legs. "Y'know...I ain't told the kid just yet about Groot. Groot was his real dad."

Mantis sighed softly. "Of course you're his real dad. Puppy, genetics aren't everything. Love is."

"I know that. I just don't know if I'm really doing right by him."

"Everything you do is truly for him. Of course you're doing right." Mantis offered a shy smile and picked a flower from the soil. It was withered, ugly, with brown petals and a dead stem, but she held it as if it was the most wonderful thing in existence. "I think Groot would be happy with what you're doing for his son."  
Rocket stared at her. He didn't know if he'd ever had a nicer compliment. And he got the impression that she _meant_ it. He didn't know what to say, but he had an idea how to repay her. He brushed his hand against her wrist and looked pointedly at her face and then at her antennae. She looked doubtful, but touched her fingertips to the back of his palm. Again, the bulbs shone and her eyes lit up with them. "Oh, Rocket-"

"Don't make a big thing of it." Rocket warned her.

"I won't, I promise." The light faded from her antennae and when she gently squeezed his hand, he didn't try to swipe at her. He did love her after all. "Should we go back soon?"

Rocket looked to where the lowest sun was beginning to set. "Yeah. Big day tomorrow."

"Yes." Mantis agreed. "Tomorrow you get your present from Lylla."

Rocket couldn't hide a laugh. "Yeah, I guess. Come on, let's get back before it goes dark."

* * *

"Where were you?" Lylla reached for his hand and then began sniffing at him. "Did you go swimming?" 

"Kinda." Rocket answered truthfully. "Where is everyone?" 

"Looking for you. Last I heard, Quill was on the verge of taking apart the Quadrant."

"So it's okay for him to do it, but when I do it, I lose my favourite duties. What an ass."

"In his defence, he was worried. We all were.  We were even looking in bars for you."

"Why?" Lylla met his eyes and he realised. The surgery. "Oh, dammit. I'm gonna shower. I can't believe what a bunch of morons I've found myself befriending..."

"Should I tell them that you're okay?" Mantis asked. 

"Nah, they'll be okay."

Lylla shook her head. "You need to shower too, you smell like dead leaves and fish shit. I will tell the others that you are safe, because they need to know. Please do not vanish while I am gone."

Mantis sniffed her arm tentatively as Lylla left. "I can't smell dead leaves."

"Lylla has a better sense of smell than you. Are you okay if I go in first? I feel gross."

"That's okay. I like baths better anyway."

He knew that he was in for an early night, so he looked in the drawer for the long shirt Quill had said he could have. It had long sleeves and dragged behind him, but the pattern was nice. On Terra, it was called 'flannel'. Whatever flannel was, it was soft and warm and Rocket very much liked the pattern. Shirt found, he headed to the shower, and soon stood under barely warm water. He looked down at his chest and parted the fur. On his skin were old scars, ugly reminders of what horrors had once occurred regularly to him. Rocket shivered and began lathering up. His ears picked up voices and he rubbed soap behind them, determined to make this shower count. He was going to be in the hospital for a long time and he would soon take on its scent.  
Finally, he could delay it no longer and shut off the water, quickly shook off and grabbed his towel. It was annoyingly impossible to keep himself from looking down at his chest. He kept picturing it getting torn open. God knew he'd seen it happen enough times. His chest tightened and he had to force himself to breathe normally.

"Rock? You comin' out for dinner?"

_'No going back now.'_ Rocket told himself and he started pulling his shirt on. "Hang on, I'm getting dressed!"

"Huh," said Kraglin as Rocket emerged. "You look just like Pete did when he was nine."

Quill looked at Rocket intensely and shook his head. "I don't really see it."

"Same height an' everythin'." Kraglin insisted.

"Screw you." Rocket told him, crossing his arms. "I don't look nothin' like him, thankfully."

"You jerk." Quill complained, but when he dropped to a knee to look into his eyes, there was no anger in his features. "Where were you today?"

"I went to visit somebody, if that's okay with you."

"Obviously, it's okay, it's just that I didn't know where you'd gone and I got a little worried-"

"A little worried?" Kraglin repeated. "Pete, I had to stop you from goin' into the Quadrant's boiler tank. And the damn thing was _on!"_ He rolled his eyes and held up a hand to wave at Rocket. "I'll be seein' you anyways. Hope...hope you sleep well."

Rocket knew that Kraglin had been about to say something about the surgery. He, too, rolled his eyes and tightened the hold he had around his own torso. "Don't know what you got freaked out for, Quill. You must've known I'd come back."

"I didn't. Rock, I thought-"

"You thought I'd run." Rocket stared into his eyes. "Didn't you?"

Quill hesitated, but confirmed with a guilty nod. "I thought maybe you'd gone drinking, but you weren't in any bars. Then I thought you'd just _gone._ I didn't know where else to find you."

"I went to see Groot." Rocket swallowed. He could feel something hard in his throat at the mention of his dead best friend. "Now you fuckin' know. Happy?"

Quill lowered his head and then glanced in his direction. "I'm sorry. I should've realised that." 

"Why didn't you?"

Quill let his other knee drop and met his eyes. "You know...if it was me, I wouldn't have made it this far. You're brave, but I also think that you're ignoring how scared you are. It's okay to admit it, Rock."

"I just gotta get through it, Quill." Rocket scratched his forearm. "I won't lie. I can't wait until it's finally over. But if I think about it, I won't be able to do it. You understand that?"

Quill nodded. "Yeah, I do."

"And I think you would have made it this far, Pete."

Peter laughed briefly. "I wish I had your faith in me."

_'Who else am I gonna have faith in?'_ Rocket wondered. The man was, after all, one of the few people Rocket felt comfortable with watching him get carved up. "I want to get there early tomorrow."

Quill got to his feet. "That's a good idea." He watched him for a moment and then put on a smile. "So, Drax and Gamora should be back soon with food. They said they were going to surprise us, so who the hell knows what we're eating tonight..."

Rocket closed his eyes for a moment, shaking his head. Gamora and Drax were notorious for clashing on opinions when it came to food. Maybe he was being pessimistic, but he was beginning to doubt that he would get an early night.

* * *

 

Rocket was wide awake. And he strongly suspected that the others knew he was wide awake. He could hear the sounds of shirts being pulled over heads and of zippers being pulled up, but he couldn't bring himself to move because he felt utterly paralysed with terror. All he wanted to do was stay still, in the flannel shirt, with the pillow Drax had made up for him, and pretend that this horrible nightmare wasn't happening.

"Rocket?" Three fingertips brushed past the very tip of his ear and it flicked without his consent. "Are you awake?"

"No," he lied. "I'm asleep, Drax. Can't you tell?"

"If you were asleep you wouldn't be talking." Gamora pointed out gently. "It's going to be a beautiful day. You might even be able to watch the final sunrise from the room if we hurry."

"What is with you people and sunrises?" Rocket muttered, but he stretched out his legs and started shuffling off the bed. He found the small bag he often used to carry around his tools. Currently, it held the stone Groot had taken from Planet X, his tablet, his medicine and the bottle of Drax's oil which he had stolen and told Drax he must have lost. The plan was to discreetly return it after the surgery. He took off the flannel shirt, folded it, and put it inside the bag. He also had a few little side-projects which he hadn't told Quill about just yet in case he grew bored at the hospital. Taking a jumpsuit from the drawer, he dressed quickly, pulling the buckles tighter than usual. His chest was beginning to squeeze again. It would be just his luck to have a heart attack or something the day he was about to get liver surgery, but he chose to ignore it. "You guys ready?"

"Ready when you are, Rock."

Rocket took a deep breath, heaved the bag onto his shoulder and squared his shoulders, looking at the door. "Then let's go."


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains details of liver surgery. If blood and mention of innards isn't your thing, give this chapter a miss and read the next one instead.

The doctor herself wasn't in yet, but she would supposedly arrive in the next hour. Rocket sat cross-legged opposite the window, palms splayed out on the marble tiling which was pleasantly cold to the touch. Vibrant golds, pinks and yellows filled the skies outside and he could hear the sounds of the Terran music. Everything was nice, yet he felt like bolting. He was crazy, he had to be, to willingly submit to such a horrible thing as surgery. He sighed and lay back, taking his hands off the floor and laying them on his chest. Within seconds, he was looking into three pairs of eyes - two blue and one black. "What?"

"Don't you think you'd find it more comfortable anywhere else than this floor?"

"No."

"You guys go and find us some water. They don't have any here." Gamora ordered softly. As the other two left, she sat beside him, enclosed his hands in hers and pulled him carefully in her direction. "Let's talk while they're gone."

"What about?" Rocket muttered from where he was lying. "No amount of talking is gonna change the fact that, in a couple hours from now, you're going to be seeing a very intimate part of my biology." At her quizzical look, he sighed. "Get your mind out the gutter, woman. You spend too much time with Quill."

Gamora sighed back at him. "Tell me how you're feeling," she implored. "I want to know."

"I don't know." Rocket admitted. "I've never been in this situation before. Never been warned, never been asked, just 'come on, 89P13, I got a surprise for you!'." He glanced at his hands. "And those surprises always sucked. How did you feel when you had yours?" Immediately, he regretted asking. Gamora had never been fixed up. She had been redesigned, same as him. He cast his eyes to the floor. "I'm sorry, I didn't...you don't have to answer that."

"I was also never asked. If Thanos wanted something to happen, it happened." Gamora held her hands tightly together and her shoulders tensed. "I was always told it was going to happen hours before it did. He would shut me in my room and all I could do was think." She swallowed. "All I could think was how scared I was, how terrible the pain would be afterwards. Why the man who called himself my father didn't think I was good enough already." She put her hands on her knees, the knuckles turning pale as she gripped them. "But that was different to this, Rocket."

"It don't _feel_ any different." Rocket met her eyes. "I know what's going to happen. I've seen it happen before. Gamora, what if the pain relief doesn't work? Or if the anaesthetic wears off too quick? What if she cuts the wrong thing and I bleed out on the table? What if there's a tripwire or something and my heart stops when she's cutting me?"

"The pain relief will work," Gamora said. "And so will the anaesthesia. She has done this type of thing many, many times before. So you don't need to worry that something will go wrong with the drugs, because it won't. And she will know where to avoid. As for tripwires-" Gamora edged a little closer to him. "-he was cruel, but he never risked your life. There's nothing inside you that's going to kill you with the exception of your liver. And that is going to be dealt with."

"I know, but now I'm here...I just want to run." Sitting up, Rocket hugged his knees to his chest as if to protect the organs inside. He couldn't look at Gamora any longer. "And what if I do?"

"I honestly didn't think you'd get this far." Gamora admitted gently. She reached out her hands and held his shoulders. "I know how terrifying all of this is. I'm so proud of you for getting to this point, we all are. And if it is too much and you choose not to go through with it, we're still going to be proud of you and we're still going to love you." Gamora smiled as he looked at her again. "But we are not going to force you into anything. So...do you want to go through with this?"

"Four years is a long time." Rocket inhaled deeply. "But it isn't long enough. I want to go through with this, it just..." It _scared_ him. And he hadn't known just how much until now. His body was starting to shake and he could feel his ears lay flat against his head. Gamora's hands went from his shoulders to the shoulder-blades and at first he tensed in her hold, unsure of what to do, before grabbing onto her shirt and hanging onto her like she was his lifeline. "Please don't leave me alone in this place," he mumbled. "I don't want to be alone here."

"We won't leave you." Gamora promised and she wrapped her arms around him all the tighter. "You're stuck with us."

"Good." Rocket could feel her hand on his back, above the exposed metalwork, but he didn't care. It almost felt nice. "Thanks."

Gamora loosened her hold and held his hands in hers. "Any time. How about you try out the bed?"

It was a ploy she was using to attempt to get him used to the room. But she had listened to his worries and helped him, so Rocket shrugged and, after Gamora let his hands go, headed to the bed in question, jumping up onto it. It was soft. The mattress had handles on the sides, probably so it could be pulled onto the operating table, but he opted to overlook this detail in favour of touching the smooth comforter which felt as soft as water under his palms. He could smell something pleasant, something comforting from the pillow. "It's not bad."

Gamora nodded. "Don't get too attached to it, because I don't think it's going to fit in your cabin on the Quadrant."

"Maybe Quill will swap cabins with me."

"That's a very optimistic hope, Rocket."

The doors beeped and Rocket saw, to a mixture of relief and anticipation that it was Quill, Drax...and Faiix. He took a deep breath, trying to dispel some of the tension in his body. "Hey."

"Good morning!" Faiix greeted. "Did you sleep well, Rocket?"

It had been a restless night, with lots of tossing and turning. "Kinda."

"Great." Faiix said, though he could tell that she knew he was lying. She wasn't wearing the white coat Rocket had come to associate with doctors, instead carrying a small pouch around her waist. "When you want to begin, we'll start."

"What's the plan again?" Rocket asked her. His mind had gone blank even though he'd had it explained multiple times.

Faiix smiled patiently. "Pain relief and anaesthesia here.  We go into the room. I'll do the prep to get the area clear and attach sensors to measure how your body is feeling during the treatment. The treatment begins. The treatment will finish. And then you'll wake up and have a perfectly working organ. Although I should warn you that you may be slightly loopy afterwards due to the pain relief. Aside from that and _some_ pain when the relief wears off, you won't go through any negative side effects. Is there anything else you want to know?"

"No, I'm all good." 'Loopy'. He wasn't going to go 'loopy'. He'd show her. He looked at the door leading to the operating room and breathed out. The longer he put it off, the worse it was going to get and it was already pretty bad. "Alright. Let's get this over with."

Faiix took off the pouch and handed it to him. "If you like, I can do it, but if you'd prefer-"

Rocket opened it to find syringes, loaded up with the liquids meant to help him. There were six syringes, three filled with a green liquid and three filled with blue. "No, you're okay." She was going to be doing a lot worse than injecting him after all. He let Quill take his left hand and held out his right, the wrist of which Gavaar always favoured when giving him shots. Despite the fact that he was safe, he knew he was safe - he had the galaxy's most dangerous woman, a man known as a destroyer and the son of a dead god with him for god's sakes -, despite knowing that Faiix was a good doctor, not the bad one he'd known and been raised by, he couldn't stop himself from shuffling back as she gently cradled the back of his hand with her fingertips, and when she pressed the tiny tip of the needle to the veins in his wrist, he fucking _whined._

"It's okay, it's okay." Quill murmured and he put a hand over Rocket's eyes, turning his head gently. "Don't look, buddy. It'll be done soon."

This was a mistake, a horrible mistake. He'd fucked up. He felt tears, hot in his eyes, some falling down his face. He looked up at Quill, feeling every bit as scared as he had been as an eleven-month old who had barely been a foot tall. He felt the second needle lightly prick his skin. "Pete...Don't let him, Pete..."

"Don't let him what?"

Tiredness was overcoming him. At least he now knew that the anaesthetic worked. "Don't let...Gax...win." He couldn't keep his eyes open anymore and let them close. "He's not 'lowed to win..."

* * *

_Rocket could smell his surroundings. Fresh water, damp soil, grasses and something else - several things - all familiar. Something good. Something safe. There was no sign of the other Guardians, so it wasn't any of them, but that scent...he knew that scent like he knew himself. Not knowing what else to do, he followed his nose, staring up at the cerulean sky several times, trying to spot any approaching spacecraft. Where was he? He was positive he had never been to this place before, but the scent was growing stronger and then he heard a sound he knew. A chitter. Was it really her? No. She was dead and he was not. But while he was confused about her scent, he knew her sound. He kept going forward and then he saw something stripy dangling from a tree ahead. Looking further upwards, he saw and recognised who the stripy object came from. "Mom."_

_89P09 lowered her head, surveying him with suspicious eyes and then sprang down, landing on all four of her feet without so much as a flinch. They watched each other, both unable to believe who they were seeing. 89P09 put one paw forward and edged closer to where he was standing. Her pointed black nose sniffed the air and when she was within touching distance, she rose up on her hind legs, peering at him through cautious eyes the same shade as his. For a moment, he feared that she would believe him to be a stranger, but she squeaked and lunged at him, licking her rough pink tongue all over his face as if he was still an infant of two months old._

_Rocket dodged her bizarre affections and grabbed around her middle, holding onto the warm, soft fur of his mother. "Mom, it's you...I don't...I can't believe it's really you. Bet this is a dream or something, heh." He let 89P09 go and looked into her face. "A really good dream."_

* * *

"Aw, do you have to shave him?"

Faiix sighed. "I don't like this either, Mr. Quill and I'm sure he doesn't, but it's necessary." With nimble fingers, she slid the fabric through the clasps and buckles of Rocket's jumpsuit, sliding off the topmost part. "There we go."

"You're always threatening to shave him." Drax pointed out unhelpfully.

"Dude, that happened once." Peter defended himself, but faltered under the glare the doctor gave him. "What?"

"That's a _terrible_ thing to say to an illegally made Uplift." Faiix said coldly. She picked up the razor and it silently shed away the fur, showing skin underneath. At first it appeared normal, although Peter didn't like the fact he could see bones rippling against his skin. Then they saw the ugly, twisted scars riddling Rocket's flesh. "This is what happened every time he saw a razor." Clicking off the one she held, she began pulling the bed to the operating room.

"I didn't _mean_ that-"

"Then you shouldn't have said it." Faiix manoeuvred the bed against the wall and began pulling on a pale blue gown. "Get one of these on. You don't want to get splattered with his blood." She slipped the hood of the gown over her head, leaving her eyes covered by two pieces of clear glass and secured the gown with laces so it wouldn't obscure her as she operated. "Who has the music?"

Peter held up the clones. "We made a list of songs together."

"That's great. Start playing it and we'll go in."

_My, my_

_At Waterloo, Napoleon did surrender, oh, yeah_

_And I have met my destiny in quite a similar way..._

Peter had never felt so tense while listening to ABBA in his life. He'd not even known it was possible to feel tense to an ABBA song. He watched as Faiix carefully shifted Rocket from the bed to the table and then began pressing stickers the backs of his hands, making several screens on the wall show lines in different colours. "What are those?"

"Red monitors his heartbeat, blue is how much pain he's feeling and green is for his level of consciousness," Faiix explained. She pressed another screen and nodded as the scan of Rocket's body came up. "Alright. He's ready."

* * *

_"I didn't know how much of a good mom you were." They were sitting at the base of a tree and she was resting her head on her paws, letting him pet her head, even though he got the impression that she wasn't too happy about it. "I didn't know I ever had you."_

_89P09 gave one of her paws a lick and sat up, lightly butting her head against his side. She looked at him out of eyes he had inherited and he wondered if the 'full capacity' she had been granted meant that she understood what he was telling her. She crooned softly and nudged him._

_"I know I got you now, but that's not going to last. Eventually I'm going to wake up."_

_89P09 tilted her head. It looked like she was asking him why. Only thing was, he didn't know how to answer._

_"I made a mistake." Rocket explained to his mother. "I've made a lot of mistakes."_

_89P09 made a soft noise and rubbed her head against his shoulder. He wasn't so sure she understood him. But even in this dream, he knew she loved him. Nothing could ever change that or take it from him. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head, breathing in the scent that was so familiar and yet so strange. Then he remembered the others. "Where are they, Mom? My brothers, my...my sisters." He had to see 89P12. He needed to see her and know if Gamora was right that his sister would forgive what he'd done to the parts she was killed for._

_89P09 stood and walked a few steps away before realising that he wasn't following. She looked over her shoulder  at him as if to say; "Are you coming or what?"_

_Rocket breathed out and followed 89P09 to meet the four people he knew the least about._

* * *

All Peter could see was a mass of pulsing flesh. Everything was moving around in there, fiercely pumping away to keep Rocket alive. It wasn't as horrible as he thought it would be, but it was a disturbing sight nonetheless. He could see white and silver in there, Rocket's modified ribs, and then he saw it. Something metallic with red lights flashing through the scarlet blood. "What's that thing?"

Faiix glanced its way. "Ah," she said. "So _that's_ how his records knew his age. That's to keep tabs on his health. It monitors his age, heart rate, blood pressure, everything."

"Could he be found with it?" Drax asked. His entire body was tense and Peter wondered how long he would be able to keep it together. He was amazed that any of them had made it this far.

"I don't think it's meant as a tracking device, but I'm not sure. It's designed to be safe to remove if you think he'd be happier without it."

 _'Don't let...Gax...win.'_ Peter looked into the gaping, bloody mass and then at Rocket. "Take it out, but deal with his liver first. That's what he came in for."

"Right." Faiix nodded and resumed her work.

She was experienced, one of the best in her field, yet the way she calmly cut through flesh and dealt with the blood made Peter flinch. He thought of Rocket being forced to endure the pain of being torn open, just like he was now, without even getting knocked out by a man who the raccoon had seen as his only parental figure. He scowled. "If I ever see that son of a bitch..."

"Us too." Gamora said and she squeezed his arm. "I had one of those monitors," she told Faiix. "It was attached to the back of my neck."

"Where is it now?"

"It was decided that I no longer needed it after adulthood. But mine was external. Why is Rocket's internal?"

"I don't know." Faiix moved away something that bled profusely. She checked the bloodbank and appeared to be satisfied with the volume of blood it held. "But he was intended for battle use. Usually, such Uplifts are fitted with these so their owners can find out their health so they can know how well they'll be able to fight. Rocket's is different, because they are rarely internal."

"Rocket probably would have tried to remove it." Drax said.

"I think you might be right there." Faiix used clamps to keep the walls of flesh open. "Found it. Time to get this liver out."

* * *

_He could hear them before he saw them. Four small grey lumps of fluff with tiny striped tails. They were as old as he was, some of them had been born before him, but they were always going to be babies, because they had never gotten the chance to grow up. Except for one. 89P12 whose chance at life had been taken away from her the day after she was born. Which was she? The one playing with one of their other siblings? Or the one who was napping with another sibling in the sun?_  
_Rocket looked at the ones who were sleeping and one rolled over and he knew she was the one he had been feeling so guilty about. There was a scar on her chest where fur had failed to grow over. He stepped closer and she opened her eyes and he was stunned to see that they weren't brown like his, but were an almost cold shade of blue. She chirped, the sound curious and got up, leaving their other sibling behind._

_They stared at each other. 89P12 looked at their mother. 89P09 looked at him and he realised he must have seemed like a giant to 89P12, so he dropped to his knees. This encouraged his sister and she ambled toward him and climbed onto his lap, rearing onto her hind legs. She sniffed his neck. She licked his muzzle. He stroked her head and she purred. "So you're my big sister." Only she wasn't. She was always going to be a baby. All of his siblings were. If anything, he was the big brother. He hugged the one who was closest to him and felt her tiny paws cling to him._

_89P12 chittered in his ear and pressed her wet little nose into his shoulder. She was so small, barely as tall as Groot. Hard to believe that he'd been that small once. Hard to believe that he was now holding his infant sister in his arms._

_"You're not worth my life." Rocket told 89P12. "You're worth a hell of a lot more than that. I wish he could've seen it."_

* * *

"I honestly thought it was going to be smaller." Peter said, peering in disgusted awe at the slab of meat in the glass container.

"It's grown engorged because of how sick he was." Faiix was holding parts of Rocket's innards together as she used a healing device to help the cells regenerate. "Okay, I can cut the wires that are holding the monitor inside him. After that, I'm going to ease the remainders out and Rocket can do what he wants with the thing." It was the most gentle thing Faiix had done with a pair of clippers during the entire procedure. Six quick snips and the monitor was taken out. Then she removed the metal spikes that were still inside him and it was finished. The bleeding flesh inside Rocket was given treatment with the healing device and then she threaded a needle and began stitching Rocket's skin back together. He was going to be left with a scar, but it would be smooth, it would be easy to forget. Snipping off the thread, she looked down at Rocket and exhaled, her shoulders and frame relaxing. "It's done."

"That's it?" Gamora asked. "There's nothing else?"

"Absolutely nothing. He's officially got a healthy, working liver again."

"When will he wake up?" Drax wanted to know. "It must be soon, he's been sleeping for nearly six hours."

"That stuff will keep him out for ten, so in four hours' time, he's going to be awake. He's probably going to be starving, but don't bring him anything that's going to give his stomach a hard time. Nothing acidic, nothing spicy and nothing heavy. In a couple of days, he'll be pretty much fine." Faiix began removing all of the tubes that were connected to Rocket and turned off the screens. In a swift, careful movement, she moved Rocket back to the bed. "Let's get him out of here."

* * *

_"You guys have a nephew." Rocket told the two furry bundles in his arms. One of his brothers had decided he wanted to join 89P12. Rocket had no idea which brother it was. One of his other siblings was using him as a climbing frame, like Groot often did. The other was curled up by one side, while 89P09 was resting by his other side. "And you've got a grandson," he told his mom. "His name's Groot." The one who was climbing around on him began chewing on his ear with sharp teeth and mewled in protest when Rocket pulled it off. He decided that it had to be 89P14, his younger brother. "Little jerk," he muttered. "Chew on Mom's ears, not mine."_

_89P14 swiped a paw playfully at him and wobbled over to 89P09 after Rocket set him down. For some reason, he opted to not chew on their mother's ears. Rocket guessed that he had just gotten lucky. Rocket looked at the brother he was holding - 89P10, it had to be - and 89P14. "What would he have done if he'd had the three of us, huh?" 89P10 silently nuzzled against Rocket's thorax. Rocket rubbed his thumb behind his brother's ears. "I wish you guys had lived. But then...I'm glad you never met Gax."_

_89P09 hissed, the fur on her back going up. Her teeth were bared, but it wasn't at Rocket. She clearly remembered the Aakon and all he had done. Rocket didn't dare think how angry she would be if she'd been around when Gavaar was beating him or when he was operating. 89P09 probably would have brought Halfworld down in a single swoop. She certainly would have had no problems killing the dick. She moved closer to him, taking 89P14 with her and Rocket couldn't help smiling. Having his mom, his brothers, his sisters...it felt so right and yet he was missing the others. "I can't stay here," he told them. "You understand that, right?"_

_89P09 purred._

_"I'm sorry I didn't appreciate you when I learned who you were. You're my mother. You'll always be my mother. Thanks for trying so hard for me and loving me when there were only the two of us." Rocket touched his mother's paw. "I hope I'm even half the parent you are." He looked at his siblings, all so young and innocent, genetically identical and yet so different from him with their blue eyes and varying fur colours. "I won't forget you guys. And you-" He caught 89P12's paw in his hand. "-I'll take care of everything you gave me. I promise I will." The sky was turning dark, everything dimming. He looked into the blue eyes of all four of his long-dead siblings, into the eyes of his mother. "I'll see you again someday." It wouldn't be for a really long time, but that was okay._

_They would always remember each other._

 


	24. Chapter 24

_They had arrived on Oorg in pods which had decimated buildings and they had shot down innocent people, his mother included, without a moment's thought. They had killed his father and had nearly stolen his sister from the closet he had pushed her inside before they had stormed into the room he shared with his twin. Then they had stolen him. He would not look at them, instead staring just below their shoes, silently telling them in his people's most traditional language exactly what he thought of them._

_"You will forget your old life." A statement, a fact. He refused to let it be true. He would remember everything, the multiple lakes on Oorg, his mother's eyes of brown-green that were the image of his, his father's smile. His twin sister, now all the family he had. "You will forget your name. From now until the end of your life, you belong to the Kree. To us."_

_He did not. He was no Kree. He was an Aakon of Oorg. And his name was Gakhsi Gavaar._

_He would never forget that._

* * *

He could smell something sweet. He couldn't stop his nose from sniffing the air, trying to work out what the delicious smell was and then his hearing focused.

"Look at that, he's waking up."

He opened his eyes. The others came into focus, all three of them. It was morning again, he could tell by the suns that hung low in the sky outside. "You guys stayed with me?"

"Where else would we be?" Gamora reached to touch behind his ears and looked concerned when he moved his head away.

"No offence, but you suck at doing that. Drax is the one with magic fingers."

Drax smiled. "Hovat used to say that."

"Just what I wanted to hear." Quill sighed, shaking his head. He offered Rocket a paper box containing fruits cut to resemble flowers. "Faiix said you'd be hungry when you woke up."

He knew in some distant part of his mind, that he shouldn't eat too much after a surgery, but he couldn't help himself and finished the entire box in seconds, barely stopping to chew. Now was the time to ensure that everything had been done as he'd wanted during the surgery. "What song did Faiix like best?"

"Well, Rock, she couldn't really sing along to it, but she did say that she liked D:Ream's song."

So she had allowed music, just like she'd promised. "What the hell did I know, huh? She kept all her promises. Guess good people doctors do exist, as well as shitty ones."

"Maybe you'll be willing to let her give you a checkup every so often?" Gamora suggested.

"I'll think about it." He looked at his middle, loosely covered by the shirt he'd inherited from Quill - had he dressed into it before the op? - and opened up the opposing sides to see a new scar, held together by stitches. The stitches in question were neat, tidy, clean and caringly done. "It's...it's so..."

"That's going to heal in time." Drax reassured him. "And your fur will grow back."

"No, it's just that I never liked anything done to my body before. Now I actually  _like_ something and it feels really weird. Look at all them tiny stitches. Gax used to either staple wounds together or let 'em heal by themselves." He stared in admiration at the long cut that ran from collarbone to navel. "It's going to look so nice when it's healed."

"It will." Gamora agreed.

"So, everything went good? No tripwires or-"

"No tripwires. But-" Gamora reached for his hand. "There was something inside you, attached to the back of your spleen. It's a monitor that tracked your age and heart-rate, blood pressure...we weren't sure if it was trackable, but it's been removed and the Nova Corps are checking it over. Once they're done, it's yours to deal with."

"Why did he do something as stupid as stick somethin' like that in me? Could've malfunctioned. Fuckin' moron."

"It's out now." Quill reminded him, reaching for his other hand. "Everything's good."

"Did you tell her to take out the monitor?"

"Yes. I figured you'd be happier and better off without it in you."

Rocket smiled. He'd been right to choose Quill after all. "Thanks, Pete." He rubbed over the long scar. Something twinged and he flinched. "Getting some feeling back."

"Does it hurt? Should we get-"

Rocket shook his head. "Nah. It's not so bad right now."

* * *

_Gakhsi was sixteen years old today. He looked the small puppies he had pulled out of one of the war-dogs of the Kree. They shared a birthday, him and them. One of them had been sick and he had saved it by holding it in his hands and rubbing until the circulation around its small body had convinced its little heart to keep beating. The only good thing about being owned by these people were the animals. They loved him and he loved them back. He fed the mother war-dog a strip of jerky and she licked his fingers, nipping his fingertips as playfully as if she was still a puppy herself. He had helped her mother give birth to her and her seven brothers when he had been twelve. He had raised her , named her and trained her by hand. She might have belonged to the Kree, but she was truly his. He looked at her in her calm yellow eyes. She was the only creature in the entirety of the planet he made eye contact with. The Kree assumed his habit of looking at their feet was an act of submission. The truth was that the war-dog he had helped to give birth was the only thing he thought worthy of eye contact, given by the Aakons to their kin._

_"Fifteen."_

_It was his owner. Gakhsi got to his feet, keeping his eyes low. "Master."_

_"How many did she birth, Fifteen?"_

_"Three female. Five male."_

_"You saved one."_

_Gakhsi nodded in confirmation. Speaking out of turn was forbidden. He had the marks to remember that by._

_"They're valuable creatures, our dogs. They don't look dangerous, yet...well, you've trained them. You know how dangerous these animals are."_

_Was that...admiration?  It was often hard to tell with the Master. Gakhsi stared at his hands. He could see the blood under his nails from the birth of the puppies._

_"You've done well, Fifteen." Master stepped closer. Gakhsi edged back, unsure of what was to come next. "When I first had you, I didn't think you would ever be of much use. But you can train a naturally vicious animal. You know how to treat them. Don't you?"_

_"Yes, Master."_

_"These animals are very useful. But they're large. They're obvious. If we had a creature who was smaller, easier to camouflage...it would be even more useful and even more valuable. Do you understand what I am saying?"_

_"I'm...not sure, Master. Do you want me to train a new creature?"_

_"No, Fifteen. I want you to make one."_

* * *

"So, was it gross?"

"What?"

"The liver."

The three of them exchanged looks. "Well," said Quill. "It wasn't pretty."

"Can I see it?"

"We'll ask Faiix where it is." Gamora said. She turned her head at a knock on the door. "You two stay here," she commanded and she went to stand by it. "Who is there?"

"I'm from Nova. Will you please let me in? This is important."

He knew that voice. He'd heard it a lifetime ago when he'd first arrived in Xandar. "Let her in, Gamora. I know this woman."

Gamora pressed her key to the screen and stepped back as a Krylorian walked in. Rocket smiled. "Guys, this is Officer Thuin. She's the first Xandarian I ever had a polite conversation with."

Thuin offered a friendly smile. "Last time I saw you, you barely reached my knee."

"Eh, I had some growin' to do. What brings you here?"

Thuin felt in her pocket and brought out a clear bag. Inside was something made of metal. "This is the monitor that was brought to us yesterday. I assume you were told about this?" At Rocket's nod, she continued. "This did monitor your health and at one point, it held a tracker."

"Oh, crap." Rocket glanced from the monitor to the others. Then he looked back at Thuin. "Wait...at one point it held a tracker? What does that mean?"

"It was removed before it was attached to you."

Rocket shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense. Why would he take out the tracker?"

Thuin placed the bag on the bed. "This device is Kree technology," she said gently. "Certain Kree provinces are known for enslaving people that they stole from other planets. Fifteen years ago, a group of Kree attacked Oorg. It's the-"

"The homeworld of the Aakon people." Rocket finished on her behalf. "So what? Someone Gavaar knew got grabbed by those jerks?"

"Not exactly. The Kree took a group of no more than twenty Aakon children. Nineteen of them were discovered orbiting around the planet hours after they were taken. One of them, an eight-year-old boy, was never found. His name was Gakhsi. Gakhsi Gavaar." Thuin turned the bag over to reveal inside of the device. There were names etched into the metal. Twenty of them. The smallest of them was the name 'Gakhsi' which was nearly unnoticeable. "Victims of the Kree."

"He was a slave." Rocket said aloud. "But how was he sent away to Halfworld when the Kree owned him? Why _him?"_

"Slaves are often used to train Kree war-dogs. Whoever had control over him probably thought to use his skills as a trainer to make an Uplift. You see, often these trainers are responsible for medical care, too." Thuin glanced at her feet momentarily. "These slaves don't dare to run. Escapees are caught because of internal trackers and when they are...terrible, terrible things happen to them. That's why the Kree felt safe enough to send him away."

"So why did he take out the tracker?"

"He treated you how they treated him. He must have thought that you'd never try to run."

"Mmm." Rocket didn't buy it. Where he was concerned, Gavaar took no risks. It was far removed from the controlling Aakon to leave out a tracker. "I told you his name when I first met you, Thuin. Why didn't you know who he was?"

"It was so long ago that we'd forgotten his name." Thuin said. "The people of Oorg assumed he was dead."

"What about now?" Gamora asked. She wasn't looking at him. She watched the Krylorian with sharp eyes. "Have you contacted them?"

Thuin shook her head. "But we have to," she told him. "His sister, Anhika, lost everything the day the Kree came."

"Screw his sister!" What about Rocket's own sister? Blind, deaf, weak and helpless as Gavaar had sawn her open. "The Aakon people are going to be _seriously_ pissed about this. They'll want my head on a stick."

"Does the name 'Dhar' mean anything to you?"

"Dhar?" Rocket scratched at his arm. "That was...he told me about his mom sometimes. Isn't that her name?"

"It was his mother's name, once. Then it belonged to an ancient war-dog belonging to the Kree. She was recently defeated on Oorg. She'd slain over a sixteen thousand Aakons in her lifetime before she was killed."

"He trained something that was going to be used against his own people."

Thuin nodded. "That's right. So, no, Rocket. The Aakons will not harm you. Not when they learn what one of their own did to them over the years."

"Is he alive?"

Thuin sighed and rubbed her forehead. "I don't know," she said apologetically. "The Kree may have executed him for his failing. He might have died on Halfworld. Wherever he is, he will never have a place in Oorg again and he faces the death penalty in most parts of this galaxy for his crimes against you."

It should've been the most consoling thing he'd ever been told. Instead, something felt hollow. He placed his palm across the stitched-up scar. "Was there anything else? I'm gettin' tired."

Thuin smiled. "That was all. Would you mind if we kept this?"

Rocket shrugged, nudging the monitor away. "Knock yourself out."

"Thank you." Thuin took back the bag with the monitor inside. "Congratulations, by the way." She nodded at the bed. "It must have taken a lot to walk into this building."

"It wasn't nothin'." Rocket waved a hand at her and watched as she walked out. It seemed that the more he learned, the worse things had been. Not just for him, but for his creator. How badly it must have screwed with his mind to see kids he'd known - maybe even been related to - die of space exposure and then get whisked off to some unforgiving Kree province to become whatever they'd wanted him to be. And then the little boy Gakhsi had been had grown up to do much of the same to Rocket. He rubbed his eyes and put his head back. "I want to be on my own. Get out."

Peter touched his shoulder lightly. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Five minutes. I'm asking for five minutes here. That's _it."_ Just so he could wrap his mind around the idea. Gavaar someone's _slave?_ Owned, just like Rocket had been? It didn't make sense. But Gakhsi had been a child. He had been raised by the Kree, who were known for their cruelty toward their slaves. Really, what choice had Gavaar had but to become cruel?

"Five minutes." Drax repeated and he touched Gamora's shoulder gently to get her moving. "We'll bring back food."

Rocket closed his eyes as they left and opened his eyes again as the door shut. He didn't like to think back to the time he'd been in Halfworld. But now his mind was forcing back an old memory. He had no choice. He remembered.

* * *

_89P13 couldn't lie in his cage the way he liked to, curled up with his head on his arms. His entire back felt raw and open from where Gax had beat him for trying to run. It had stopped bleeding, but red liquid had dried into a maroon crust on the floor of his cage. He would probably get in trouble for making his cage dirty, but he didn't know what to do about it. The lights flicked on and he edged back into the furthest corner of his cage as Gax came toward him. It was clear he'd seen the blood, but he wasn't angry. 89P13 knew that he wasn't angry because there was no scary look in his eyes. Nonetheless, his tail curled around his ankles and he closed his eyes tightly as his creator reached for him._

_"You need to get clean or your back will get infected."_

_"Hurts."_

_"Yes, I know." Gax put him in the basin and turned the faucet away from him, running warm water into the basin and stopping it from emptying with a plug. "Stay in here to let the blood soften. Currently, it's dry and if I try rubbing it off, it will only lead to more damage." He shut off the faucet. "Stay there. I'm going to get the blood off the floor."_

_"Didn't mean to blood on it. Sorry, Gax."_

_"There was nowhere else for it to go." Gax said. It was unusually reasonable of him. 89P13 watched as his creator dipped a cloth into the pool of warm water and then attacked the cage floor. Gax looked back at him. "Do you know why I punished you?"_

_89P13 nodded._

_"Use your vocabulary, for fuck's sakes. I didn't give you full intelligence for nothing."_

_"Yes."_

_"Why?"_

_"Risked myself."_

_"That's right." Gax finished and threw the cloth into the disposal unit. He went back to the basin and took a fresh cloth from the shelf above the basin and, after wetting it, began pressing against 89P13's back. "Why did you try to run?"_

_"I wanted to go out."_

_"What for?"_

_"You no understand. You no have creators. If you want go out, you can go out. I not allowed."_

_"Ah." Gax put the cloth back in the water and swished it around. "You wanted to be in charge of yourself. Be free."_

_"Yes."_

_Gax took his shoulders and turned him so they faced each other. "You're not free here, that's true. But you can be once you've been purchased. If you choose to leave your buyers, there's nothing they can do."_

_"Really?"_

_Gax nodded his head. His eyes lowered, looking to his left. "Really. But until then, you need to do what I say, even if it hurts or frightens you. And no more escape attempts, do you understand me?"_

_"No try escape." 89P13 promised._

_"Good boy." Gax pulled him out by his arm and threw a towel over him before he had time to truly appreciate the rare praise. "Dry your body. I'll deal with your back and then I want you to try a new simulation to test your marksmanship."_

* * *

 

_'If you choose to leave your buyers, there's nothing they can do.'_

 

Rocket touched his neck, remembering the collar that had been stuck into the flesh for the first eleven months of his life. Now he thought of it, why bother with a collar if there was a tracker inside of him? Gavaar had probably made up a reason on the spot when the Kree asked about it. Probably told them that it was a safety measure. Or maybe the Kree hadn't asked him. But why would he take such a chance? What had he to gain if Rocket had escaped? He rubbed his forehead and blinked up at the ceiling. Nothing made sense any more and he wished that the device with the names of the lost children had not been found within him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Officer Thuin appeared in Lost But Not Gone where she was the first humanoid to treat Rocket and OG Groot with decency. Thus, Rocket likes her and she, for her part, very much likes him. The fact he helped save her home planet twice helps.


	25. Chapter 25

Rocket had known for all of the years he'd been living that life was not simple. He looked up at the ceiling from where he lay on the bed and held his palm over the neat stitching. An unwelcome image of the torn gashes he had left over Gavaar's body flashed into his mind and he flinched. Had there been any markings to identify his creator as being a slave? Of course, Rocket hadn't been looking for tattoos or scarring. He had just wanted to give back some of the hurt.

"Why don't you guys go to bed?" Kraglin's voice snapped Rocket from his thoughts. He'd not even heard the Xandarian arrive.

"We're fine." Gamora said, despite looking like she could fall asleep where she was standing.

Rocket glanced at Kraglin and then shook his head at the other three. "He's right. You guys look ready to drop."

"Never been more awake." Quill yawned, but he moved obediently when Kraglin grabbed him by the back of his jacket and began propelling him to the door. "You jerk."

"Yeah, yeah." Kraglin opened the door and watched as the trio began trailing out. "You'll like me again when you've had a couple hours rest."

"Don't be so sure." Rocket warned as the door closed. "He still brings up that time you told him it was a rite of passage for Ravagers to scrub the inside of the ship's sewage tank clean with a toothbrush."

Kraglin grinned. "Yeah, his _own_ toothbrush. That was a good one."

"I would've kicked your ass for that."

"Oh, he tried." Kraglin sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the stitched-up wound that ran down Rocket's abdomen. "Well, look at that. She took real good care of you."

"She sure did." A twinge cut through his body and he winced, grabbing at the blanket he was lying on.

"Does it hurt?"

"No. Just aches a little. Those pain meds are strong." Either that or recovering from major surgery wasn't as painful as he remembered.

"You know, I would tell you another Quill story, but I'm afraid you'll laugh so hard that you'll pop your stitches."

"That's okay." He wasn't in a laughing mood anyways.

Kraglin frowned slightly. "What's up with you? Normally you'd be sayin' that a popped stitch would be worth the story."

"I don't feel like laughin'. Is that okay with you?"

"Rocket," Kraglin folded his arms loosely across his middle. "If there's somethin' bothering you and you keep it inside, you'll hurt yourself."

"I've already fuckin' hurt myself." Rocket pointed out. "Kinda why I'm in this frickin' hospital."

"You know damn well what I meant. This is the last place you want to feel uncomfortable in."

It was an unfortunately valid point. But he had decided that he wouldn't talk about it, about the truth he'd learned, and he meant it. "I don't want to talk about it."

Kraglin exhaled softly. "I know," he said, his tone apologetic. "I know you don't. There's only one thing that I can think has put you in this kind of mood. So...What'd he do this time?"

"Don't know who you're talking about-"

Kraglin interrupted with a patient shake of his head. "Quit being a stubborn pain in the balls for five seconds and talk to me."

"It's none of your damn business, you Xandarian jerk-off!" 

"You're going to have to come up with a hell of a lot worse than that if you want rid of me."

Rocket could come up with worse. However, he couldn't throw anything devastating at the man who had saved his life by explaining a truth that Rocket hadn't wanted to face. "I don't want you to go anywhere," he mumbled. "It just keeps getting worse."

Kraglin, apparently knowing that he was very close to getting the explanation he wanted, edged closer. "Tell me." 

"It's a long story."

"I got all the time in this world."

Rocket looked away from him. "Faiix found a health monitor attached to my spleen. Nova Corps looked it over for trackers and learned that was made using Kree tech."

"Was there a tracker?"

"No." Rocket moved his eyes again to meet Kraglin's. "Where a tracker would've been, they found a bunch of names Gavaar had scratched into the metal."

"Names? Whose names?"

"The kids he was abducted from Oorg with." Rocket scratched his wrist. "There was this attack on his homeworld when he was eight. The Kree wanted slaves. He and nineteen others were the ones they chose. The Kree ended up throwing the other kids out into space and leaving them to die."

"And they enslaved the one who got hold of you."

"That's right. He wasn't a battle slave. They used him to train their war-dogs. He named one of them after his mom and she killed thousands of his own people." Rocket pulled his shirt tighter around himself. "All this time, the Aakons thought he was dead. Then one of them killed the war-dog and they found out her name. Got suspicious and right about now, their Empress is being told what one of their kids grew up to be."

"A monster."

"A slave." Rocket reminded him. "What choice did he have?"

Kraglin shook his head again. "He was a slave from the age of eight years old, right?" At Rocket's nod, he continued. "In those years, he learned about loyalty, love, and how to be a good person. He became cruel, corrupt and twisted. Now, we've all done questionable things, but I've never tortured a child an' neither has anyone else."

"I keep telling you. I wasn't a kid. I was a-"

"Wasn't a kid, my ass." Kraglin said. "Four months of age an' he was knocking you around like you were a full-grown man. We never broke any of Pete's bones and made sure he never bled. At least not much. Yondu wouldn't have had it. An' he was with the Kree from birth."

Rocket crossed his arms over his chest. "Why are you bringing Yondu into this?"

"Because he was a slave, too, if you'll remember."

"What about it?"

"He never treated us how he was treated. Not once. And from what I've heard, Gavaar treated you how the Kree treated him." Kraglin's tone was careful. He was holding onto his hands tightly as if not sure what to do with them. "What happened to him was terrible an' it shouldn't have happened. But just 'cause somethin' bad happens to you doesn't give you the right to pass that badness on. Slave or not, he was still a monster for what he did to you."

"But he didn't put a tracker in me." Rocket's fingers found one of the buttons on the shirt and began pulling at it. "He gave me a chance to be free. Would a really bad person do that?"

"A little bit of good doesn't change all the bad," Kraglin said gently. "Is freedom worth losin' your family over?"

"No." Rocket thought of the four siblings that his drug-induced sleep had allowed him to finally meet. "It just...changes things."

"He had a chance to be honest with you. He chose to lie. He had a chance to treat you right. He chose not to. Him leavin' the tracker out changes nothing."

"Maybe not, but he was sixteen. He wasn't much more than a kid."

 _"You_ weren't even a year old." Kraglin rested his hand on Rocket's shoulder. "Maybe he was young, but he was also old enough to know better."

"Are the Aakons like him? You knew some, didn't you?"

Kraglin's face fell. A little too late, Rocket realised that any Aakon people Kraglin had known had probably been thrown out of the airlock on the day of the mutiny. Regardless, Kraglin took a soft breath and nodded. "Yeah, I knew a bunch of Aakon people. To answer your question, no, they weren't. Aakons used to be some of the most vicious people in the galaxy, constantly at war with each other. Nearly as bad as the Terrans. Then the Kree started becoming powerful and attacking them, so they put their differences aside and eventually grew to love each other more. Couple hundred years ago, they did away with the death penalty so they wouldn't end the life of one of their own again. Most peaceful people you could ever meet now. The ones I knew wouldn't raise a hand to no one, but they could kill people in a split second."

"Gavaar was vicious."

"Yeah. And he was vicious to the last person he should've been vicious to. Slave or not, he had no right to hurt you." Kraglin brushed his palm over Rocket's head. It was the same thing he did to annoy Quill by messing up his hair, but Rocket knew he wasn't doing it to be a dick.

"I just hope his sister feels the same way you do."

"She's an Aakon. An' if it's true that his war-dog attacked and killed thousands of his own...it won't be you she's pissed with."

* * *

**OORG**

Orange dripped from the new cut she'd nicked into her flesh. Dammit. It was the second time she'd cut herself while trying to chop the red ginger. She stabbed the knife into the vegetable board and looked down as she felt a small hand grab at her pants. "Dhar," she said gently. "Be careful. Mama is making dinner and, look," she held up her hand and showed it to her daughter. "Mama cut herself by accident. What if that happened to you?"

"Sorry, Mama."

Akhila craned over to kiss Dhar on her head. She could hardly believe that her daughter would be turning seven soon. The irony being that as she had brought her daughter into the world, Gakhsi had been torturing someone that amounted to his own son. She ignored the rest of the ginger and scooped her child into her arms, holding tight. Never, not once, could she imagine causing harm to her baby girl. What had happened to her brother who had loved animals? He had grown up to be a tormentor in his own right and had trained the beast that had tried to kill Dhar and had then torn the arm off of Akhila's husband as he'd protected their daughter. Gakhsi was responsible for his own niece's nightmares, the maiming of his own brother-in-law. And there was what he'd done to one of the Guardians. She carried Dhar into their living room and sat on the couch with her daughter in her lap.

Footsteps padded softly over. Akhila looked up at her husband. Raani smiled. He'd wanted time by himself after learning who was responsible for his loss, something that she'd understood. He dropped a kiss to her lips and tickled Dhar under her chin. "Find a storybook for bedtime," he instructed their daughter. "I'll help Mama with dinner."

As their daughter scampered off, Akhila got to her feet. He was looking into her eyes. He still loved her and warmth flooded her heart. She reached for him and he pulled her into a one-armed hug. Holding around his waist, she pressed her face into his shoulder, the one with no arm from it. Tears stung her eyes and she let them spill. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry-"

"No, no." Raani kissed her temple. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you to go away."

"I don't blame you. If you don't want to be part of my family, I understand-"

"You _are_ my family." Raani said. "This isn't your shame, you realise that?"

"How could he do this? All those horrible things...that's not my brother."

Raani brushed his knuckles over her cheek. She grabbed his hand, holding tightly to it. "Akhila, it's his shame. Nobody else's."

Akhila closed her eyes tightly, lips pressed together to stop herself from breaking down. "All these years and I hoped that not finding his body was a good thing. Now...I wish the Kree _had_ killed him. They've taken him from me in the worst of ways." She sniffed, letting more tears fall. "He's gone, isn't he?"

Raani nodded his head. "I think he's been dead for years. Ever since...since he was left." He knew what had ultimately happened to Gakhsi. It was terrible, yet neither could deny that it was deserved.

Akhila rubbed her eyes. "What do we do now, Raani?"

He wrapped his arm back around her. "Now we heal."

* * *

**HALFWORLD**

 

  **SUBJECT 89P13**

******INT. ORGANS** ** **

******HEART - 100%** ** **

Good. He'd known that 89P12's heart would be stronger than her brother's.

******LUNGS - 95%** ** **

89P09 had been rightly difficult, but her lung tissue, along with her daughter's, had been more than helpful to 89P13.

******LIVER - 100%** ** **

Gakhsi closed his good eye, placing down the monitor. It had remained stuck on the numbers - someone must have removed it. But it reminded him that whatever killed 89P13, it wouldn't be the liver that had been non-functioning for nearly three years. Little surprise the stubborn thing had refused to go in for surgery. Of all the mistakes Gakhsi had made, forcing him to go through surgery without pain meds or anaesthesia was probably the biggest. But he'd had to - how else was he going to raise 89P13's pain threshold?

At least, that's what he'd told himself all the times he'd listened to his subject's screams and cries. Sometimes he could still hear them at night. It was his mind playing tricks on him. There was nothing else alive on Halfworld. Those left alive after 89P13 and his large friend had left had gone. The only visitors since had been the Kree who had removed his tracker for a new slave's use and left him with 10mg of pain relief. It was an act of mercy to them. A chance for him to die painlessly as well as quickly. But instead, he had ignored the pain, been sensible and the wounds had healed. It was a miracle that he hadn't died where he'd been left.

Sometimes he wished that he had died. When he'd been designing 89P13, he was thinking of what had been promised in exchange for the weapon he was making. Freedom. He would no longer be a slave. His only issue had been that it felt so wrong to be condemning someone else to slavery while he got to walk free. Luckily, he had found a loophole for that. No tracker meant that if 89P13 was careful, he would be able to leave the Kree if he wanted to. Instead, he'd left Halfworld. It had really messed up Gakhsi's plan for the future. Still, when had life ever gone to plan?

He started walking through the hallways to go outside, taking the monitor with him. Spikes of pain flared up inside him. He wondered if it was how 89P13 had felt during the surgeries. Gakhsi wished that his younger self had thought things through better. Even if things had gone well, he would have felt guilt ripping away at him. All the things. The wrong he had done. He felt no remorse to his people. The Aakons had abandoned him to the Kree. But 89P13...he hadn't deserved it. Still, what could Gakhsi do now? Nothing. He arrived at the patch of grass close to the shore of the ocean that covered 50.00% of the entirety of the planet and sat cross-legged before it. Underneath were the bones of the little animal he had wronged before 89P13.

* * *

**6.9 YEARS PREVIOUSLY - HALFWORLD**

_89P13 wouldn't stop crying. He just lay huddled in his cage, whimpering for his mother who, of course, wasn't coming. It wasn't like Gakhsi could easily blame him. After all, he had cried when the Kree had killed his parents. They had beaten him and told him in no uncertain terms to forget his parents or be thrown amongst the stars with the other children. So he had soon forgotten the touch, smell, sound and love of his parents. Their faces became a mystery to him. Now he had done the same thing to someone and had no idea how to make the grief just stop. The clock on the wall told him that 89P13 hadn't eaten anything in nearly eight hours. Maybe he'd feel better once he'd had some of the satchet food. It was supposed to be healthy and didn't even need chewing. He looked under the basin and set it on the roof of the cage. 89P13 watched him out of wide brown eyes. Gakhsi ignored the thought that 89P13 could easily have been 89P09's clone and reached for him. He jumped as the procyonid swiped his paw at him. "Hey! Don't be like that."_

_In answer, 89P13 bared his teeth and began wriggling and flailing around. It was clear what he was thinking; "You killed my mother in front of me, so why should I let you touch me?"_

_"Stop." Gakhsi said and he brought the little creature against his chest, holding his arms and torso steady. There was a cacophony of screeching in protest and 89P13 began thumping his head against his chest. After five minutes, he stopped and whined softly, his small black nose quivering. "I don't blame you for not being very happy with me." Gakhsi said. "But I'm all you've got now. You've got to stop fighting me."_

_89P13 whined again. He eyed the satchet suspiciously but licked at the plastic nozzle when the food was pushed out. He seemed to approve of the taste because he was soon biting at it in an effort to retrieve it all. When it was emptied, he pushed his paws against Gakhsi's chest, kneading at the skin._

_"Don't bother rooting for milk from me." Gakhsi told him, trying to joke. "Aakon males don't lactate. And even if they did, you're too old for breastmilk."_

_89P13 soon gave up on his search and made a sound like a sigh. He was still looking up at him with distrust and uncertainty. The imprinting bond was seriously compromised. But that could be fixed._

_"I didn't mean to kill her." Gakhsi explained. "It was an accident. I lost my mother like you lost yours. I'm sorry to have hurt you like that." 89P09 had thrown herself at Gakhsi as his father had thrown himself at the Kree who had invaded their home. Was he becoming just like the Kree? One of them after eight years? "I'll make sure you're never a prisoner to the people you're going to. You'll be free someday, just like I will. I promise." He couldn't be like the Kree. He would have to be ruthless in making their weapon, but he could never be like them. "You're lucky, you know. I'm going to help you prepare for the ways of the Kree." It wasn't going to be pleasant for either of them, but at least 89P13 was going to have some idea of what to expect when the Kree got him. "I need to do something important. I'll be back soon."_

_He had to search through countless furry, scaly, smooth and rotten bodies before he finally found her. She felt heavy in his arms as he carried her outside to the shore of the water. He tore up the earth with his bare hands and rolled her into the grave he'd made before filling it back in. Smoothing over the soil, he looked at the small square of churned up terrain and got back to his feet. He didn't know what to do. Pray? No, he had no faith in the gods any longer. "Sorry. I'm sorry for what happened. I hope you found your babies again."_

* * *

**PRESENT DAY - HALFWORLD**

He hoped that she had. He showed 89P09's grave the monitor. "He's going to be alright." he told the mother of the child he'd attempted to raise. "In spite of me, he's going to be alright." He looked up at the skies. No one knew that he was here - and he was lucky that they didn't. "I'm in trouble with the Aakon government." They didn't care enough to search for me, but you cause them to get hurt and suddenly they want you." The Kree wanted him forgotten. They wouldn't turn him in. Ironic that the people who had taken away everything from him were the ones that he could truly rely on. "I'll never be able to show him that I regret so much." And he did. He had regretted everything ever since the last Uplift of Halfworld had died. He had assumed that his biggest failure was being unable to keep 89P13 under control. That was untrue and he knew that now. His biggest regret was that he hadn't cut off his arm, stolen a ship, and gone. He would probably have still been in trouble with Oorg. But at least he would never have become so cruel. "I'm still sorry," he told 89P09. "I can only tell you that now...and try to keep my eye on whatever it is 89P13 is doing nowadays." It would be all that he could do for the rest of his life. He was half-blind, couldn't even run for the chronic pains he suffered and was a wanted man full of regrets and decades left to think about them all. But that was alright.

It was no less than what he deserved.


	26. Chapter 26

It wasn't as bad in the hospital as he had thought it was going to be. The only real problem was something that he couldn't really blame the place for. The problem, if it could be called that, was the bed. It wasn't uncomfortable, in fact it was one of the more comfortable places he'd ever slept on, but it felt unnatural to be healing in a soft place. He wanted smooth surfaces. Hard surfaces. And it was one of the stupidest things his brain had ever decided that he needed. The worst part was that Rocket wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to keep up the lie that he kept falling out of bed before one of the others got suspicious.

"I know what you need," Quill said after helping him get settled back into the bed. "You need bedguards at the sides. That'll stop you falling out."

"Bedguards? What the hell are bedguards?"

"They're there to stop people from falling out of bed when they have seizures." Gamora explained.

"I don't have seizures." Rocket pointed out to him. "I move around a lot when I'm sleepin'. That's all."

"Mmm." Drax rumbled. He was the only one who hadn't immediately asked a bunch of stupid questions or given suspicious looks after Rocket had scrambled for the lie when they'd found him asleep on the floor. "You two ask Groot if he'd like to come in."

Rocket took a quick look at the scar. The inflammation had reduced and the skin was going where it was meant to - blending seamlessly as it always should have done. "I think he'd be okay."

"What about Lylla?"

Rocket shook his head. He knew that Lylla could never set foot in a hospital. "Just bring me our kid."

Drax glanced at the satchel Rocket had brought into the hospital. "Is the protective oil still in the front pocket?"

"Yeah, it- what protective oil?"

Drax made an amused huff. "I realised it was gone the morning we came here," he said to Rocket's creeping horror. "May I take it out? I think it would be useful to you."

"I didn't put it there!"

"Mmm."

"Maybe...maybe Groot put it in there..." Rocket suggested weakly.

"Rocket, you can't blame your own innocent child for something that you did," Drax said, his tone full of gentle reproach.

"Why not?"

"Because you're a better person than that."

"You don't know me at all, do you?"

Drax took the lid off the bottle and let the thin blue liquid spill around the area Rocket was laying. "I know you." Finished, he replaced the lid and slid the bottle back where it came from. "But sometimes I don't understand you."

What had he done to confuse the man? Rocket tried to think, but nothing came to mind. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Why didn't you just ask if you wanted it? You didn't need to steal it."

Rocket couldn't bring himself to try and lie again. He suspected that Drax would simply see through any untruths. "I didn't know how," he confessed, staring at his hands rather than braving a glimpse into Drax's eyes.

"I thought you knew that you could come to me for anything."

"Oh, goddammit, don't give me a guilt trip." Rocket covered his eyes momentarily and then looked at the man through his fingers. "Why can't you just start yellin' like normal?"

"I can't yell at someone who's been hospitalised." Drax said. His words made Rocket's guilt levels promptly shoot up. It didn't help matters when he began smoothing behind his ears as if he had never had something stolen from him at all. "I thought that you might need some. I have several supplies of it on the ship, so it's not a problem if one goes missing."

"I was going to put it back when I got out of hospital." Rocket didn't know if it would help things or not, but he figured that Drax was owed an honest explanation.

Drax gave him a curious look. "You didn't think that my suspicions would be raised when I saw that there was only a small amount left inside?"

"I hoped you wouldn't notice."

"You would be surprised what I notice." Drax perched on the edge of the bed, continuing the soft touches.

Drax wasn't being fair, being so nice and careful after Rocket had stolen from him. It didn't make any sense. One of the unspoken rules of the ship was 'do not steal from each other'. Hell, it had been a rule enforced in the lab. So what was going on? "Why aren't you mad anyway?"

"Because I understand that there was a reason. You needed the oil to cope."

"I...I guess it does help." There was no denying the new feeling of calm that was coming over him due to the oil's fragrance.

"You're always welcome to it if you need it. I only ask that you tell me in future."

"Okay." Rocket looked up at the man who always had some words of wisdom or a loving touch for him and managed a smile. "Thanks."

Drax glanced down at him, his eyes full of confusion. "For what?"

"I am Groooooot!" _'Daaaaad! Open the dooooooor!'_

Rocket hid the stitches just as Groot was finally granted access. The next thing he knew, his 'own innocent child' had flung himself into his arms and Rocket flinched. Partially from a twinge of pain that had decided to attack. Mostly because for a moment, he was back with his mother, holding several of his infant siblings close to his heart. He exhaled slowly and hugged Groot close. "Did you miss me?"

"I am Groot!" _'Yes!'_

"I missed you too. Were you good for your grandma?"

"Uh-huh." Groot rested his head on Rocket's shoulder and put his tiny wooden thumb into his mouth.

"Lylla says that she hopes you'll be out of this - and I'm quoting her here - 'godforsaken building' soon."

"I am Groot!" _'Grandma didn't say godforsaken! She said 'goddamn'!'_

Quill groaned lightly and put his face into his hands. "That otter is a bad influence." As if _he_ was one to talk.

"She's not an otter, she's a Lontra. How did you know what Groot was saying anyway?"

"I guessed." Peter rubbed the top of Groot's head with his finger. "That being said, sometimes I can kinda understand what he's trying to say."

"I really need to help you guys understand his language." He couldn't be a translator forever. It wasn't fair on Groot or any of the others. "Is Lylla okay?"

"She's good. She said she was going to take a nap because _someone_ wore her out." Quill pointed at Groot who was playing with the shiny buttons on Rocket's shirt. "I think she enjoyed hanging out with her favourite grandkid."

"Of course she did. What's not to enjoy?" Rocket stopped Groot from biting the button and watched as his son began pointing at the holograph button on the wall. "Did Lylla get you into watching the news or somethin'?"

"I am Groot!" _'Ioan Tales! Ioan Tales!'_

Rocket looked helplessly at the others. "What the hell is that?"

"It's a cartoon." Gamora said. "Groot, you haven't seen your dad in six days-"

"I AM GROOT!" _'IOAN TALES!'_

Rocket rolled his eyes. "Put it on. He's here an' that's good enough." There was time for them both after the cartoon. And it was kinda cute to see him bouncing up and down with excitement.

"You'll either love it or hate it." Quill told him as he sat opposite Drax. He wrapped an arm around Rocket's shoulders, smiling as Groot decided he wanted to grip onto his shirt. "For the record, I always loved it and Kraglin once threatened to up and leave if he ever heard the theme song again."

"What did Yondu say to that?"

"He held his arms behind his back so he couldn't run and sang it to him until he promised not to kick up a fuss again." Quill grinned. "I was his backup vocalist."

"I hope he got his revenge on you for that."

"He did by trickin' me into cleaning out the sewage tank with my own toothbrush. Rite of passage my ass-"

"I am Groot." _'Daddy, shh.'_

_Far away from Jupiter_

_Lit by a distant sun_

_We-eee-eee are_

_The Ioans!_

Drax touched Gamora's wrist with his free hand. "Are there any people on Io?"

"No. I don't think it's a moon that is able to support life."

Drax seemed unsure. "I know that Titan is one of Saturn's moons, so _maybe-"_

"Guys," Quill interrupted. "It's a cartoon. It's not meant to make sense. No, there aren't people on Io."

"I am Groot." _'Yes there are, Daddy! We're watching them right now.'_

"That's exactly right, Groot. Don't listen to the non-believer." He wasn't expecting to like the show. But as he watched the hot-tempered Ioans fight each other violently, he couldn't help enjoying it, so much so that he was sorry when it ended. "When is the next one?" he asked Groot as the credits (in the Krylorian language) scrolled up the black screen.

"I am Groot." _'Tomorrow, Dad.'_ Groot clambered onto Rocket's chest, separated from the stitches by fabric alone. "I am Groot?" _'Did you love it, Daddy?'_

"Yeah."

"I am Groot." _'Good.'_ Groot must have felt something strange through the shirt because he looked down quizzically at it. "I am Groot?" _'Dad, did it hurt?'_

"No. I was asleep through it all, just like she promised."

"I am Groot?" _'You won't need to go to hospital ever again, right?'_

"Well..." Rocket couldn't bring himself to lie to his son, much as he wanted to, if only to give him peace of mind. "Let's hope not."

Conceding that it was the best he was likely to get, Groot sighed softly and looked at the mats strewn on the floor. "I am Groot?" _'Did you have a sleepover?'_

"Sure. And your mom's snoring kept me awake all night too."

"It's payback for all the times you've awoken me by blowing something up." Gamora said unapologetically. She had been prodded awake no less than five times and required to stop sleeping on her back. Each time she had politely told whomever had awoken her to go back to sleep or get their ass kicked.

That reminded him that he had things to do, hidden away in his satchel. Right now, he had more important things to worry about. "What did you guys do together?"

"I am Groot!" _'Grandma and Aunt 'Tis took me swimming in the fountains!'_

Oh great. Those women were going to be the death of him. "If you get an ear infection, it's on them," he told Groot. "You've been okay?"

"I am Groot." _'Yeah, but I really missed you. When will you get out of the hospital?'_

"I don't know. A couple days."

Groot sighed. "I am Groot!" _'That's forever, Dad!'_

"It'll be okay. Wanna see where she opened me up?"

Groot nodded eagerly. "I am Groot!" _'Yeah!'_

Before anyone could try to stop him, he pulled open the shirt to reveal the stitches. Groot's eyes widened. "It's okay, Groot, it doesn't hurt. What do you think?"

"I am Groot?" _'Why did she sew you?'_

"It's to stop my guts fallin' out."

"I am Groot!" _'Cool!_ ' The young Flora Colossus pointed at the warped scars all around the stitches. "I am Groot?" _'What are those from?'_

"Most of those are because of surgeries from that guy I told you about."

"I am Groot?" _'Are the others from fights?'_

"Yeah..." Rocket looked at the one that curved brokenly by his side, thinking of the whipping that had resulted in it. "You could say that."

Drax reached to touch Groot's forehead. "You need water, you feel very dry."

Rocket touched the sapling's head to gauge for himself if Groot was in need of water. His touch confirmed it, Drax was right. "Go with him to get him something to drink will you? I think Faiix is going to be lookin' in soon to check up on the-" he pointed to the stitches.

Drax nodded, patted his head lightly with his fingertips and scooped Groot up in his hand, departing with a promise to the sapling that they would return.

Gamora took the spot Drax had vacated. It felt strange to no longer have the muscular bulk of Drax's form there, but she was just as good. She held his hand and smiled so sweetly that he was nearly able to forget that she had threatened two men with defenestration if they wouldn't let her sleep in peace. "How are you feeling now? After what you were told by Thuin?"

"Better."

"Do you mean that?" Quill asked. "Or are you saying that so we'll quit askin'?"

"No, I mean it. Kraglin pointed out a couple important details to me. He said that just because something terrible had happened to my creator, it didn't give him a right to pass it on."

Gamora nodded, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand. "He's right," she said. "That's exactly right."

The door beeped and the three of them sharply raised their heads to see who had arrived. Faiix raised a hand apologetically. "Should've knocked. How are you all this afternoon? I thought I heard the Tales from Io theme playing..."

"Our son visited." Quill told her, easing away from Rocket to give back some space.

"Oh! That's lovely. I'll bet he's missing you."

"He won't when I'm out of here."

Gamora shook her head, smiling and got to her feet. "Groot was asking, how long do you think until Rocket can walk out?"

"That's what I came up here to try and determine. The skin around the stitches is healing really well, but I wanted to take a look inside. Would it be alright if I scanned your torso?" Faiix pointed at the large screen on the side of the wall. "That would work more quickly and it's less cramped than a body scanner. May I?"

Rocket glanced at it. It was simple enough, Faiix had told him what its functions were. It wouldn't hurt, it was non-invasive and would take a matter of seconds. "Fine by me."

"Thank you." Faiix pulled it down and waited for him to fully clear the area before positioning the screen over his chest. There was a soft flash of light and the doctor was satisfied. She showed them the scan and pointed at the different layers of healing flesh. "The muscles that were cut are taking the longest amount of time to heal," she said. "That's to be expected. Your dermis is coming along really well. Better than I thought it would, actually."

"Does that mean I can go now?" 

"I would recommend waiting for your muscles to heal first." Faiix said gently. "If you go out of this building when the muscle is too weak, it could cause serious problems for you. Give it another week max and-" 

"A week? I'm not waiting a fucking _week!"_

"It's your best chance of avoiding further harm." Faiix pushed the screen back. "I know you want to leave as soon as possible, but if you leave before your body is ready, you will damage it."

"It's already damaged."

Faiix smiled. "The only thing wrong with it got fixed," she reminded him. "The good news is that the new organ is working very nicely and the top layers of your skin are healed well enough that I think your stitches are ready to come out."


	27. Chapter 27

"Are you sure you don't want painkillers?" Faiix asked for the third time.

"You said it wouldn't hurt and I believe that."

"Yes, but it could be a worrying experience for you."

"I've been through worse. Come on, get these strings outta me already." Despite his faith in Faiix. Rocket didn't refuse when Gamora held his hand. He didn't trust himself to look as the doctor picked up a pair of narrow tweezers, biting at his lower lip and looking up at the ceiling. He had twenty-eight stitches. Could've been worse, he could've found himself with fifty-eight, as he kept telling himself. But as he felt a small section of his flesh be pulled upwards, he gasped sharply, gripping Gamora's thumb so tightly he was surprised it didn't break in two.

"Did it hurt?" Quill asked, reaching for his other hand.

"N-no. Just feels weird." He was being stupid. He was in absolutely no danger at all and he had to remember that if he was going to get through this. But when his bare skin sensed the blade of the tiny scissors, he bolted upright and nearly fell from the bed - this time for real. He clamped his hands over the stitched-up scar, feeling his body tremble.

"It's okay." Faiix said. She was trying to be soothing, but Rocket could feel what little fur he had on his back stand up. "I know this is frightening. Do you need anaesthesia?"

He was fine. At least he would be. Rocket shook his head and breathed out, removing his hands from his middle. He could see the threads poking from opposite sides of the scar. Only twenty-seven more to go. He could do it. But maybe it would be better if it wasn't the doctor. Rocket met Gamora's darker eyes and then at the scissors and tweezers on the little white tray. Silently, he requested her to take them and she gave an imperceptible nod and held out her hand for the tweezers. Rocket hoped Quill had strong bones and held onto his index finger with both hands and all the strength he possessed. The stitches were slowly pulled against the skin they had been threaded into and he flinched when they were cut, but he didn't find the urge to run again. Even though he trusted the Zen-Whoberian with his life and more, he couldn't physically relax and felt water trickle from the corners of his eyes. He knew that his claws were digging into Quill's skin and felt terrible for hurting him, but he couldn't recall ever feeling so _tense._

"Done," Gamora said softly. She handed back the tools to Faiix who left with them, probably to get them sterilised for the next poor idiot who needed their stitches out.

Quill somehow managed a smile, even with the red lightly pouring down his skin. "It's finished with, Rock."

That was all great, but he wasn't in a hurry to lose Pete's hand any time soon. He took away one hand to touch the smooth, slightly reddened line and felt the air leave his lungs. Tremors took over his body and he could feel a large arm curl itself around his shoulders. Then another, slender, arm from the opposite direction. Goddammit. So much for being fine. "Should've accepted the drugs, shouldn't I?"

"It's okay." Pete watched Gamora dab his bleeding hand with a piece of paper towel. "You'll remember next time."

Quill was talking out of his ass because there was not, _ever_ , going to be a next time. Rocket mentally swore that he would never allow his body to become so damaged that he needed stitches again. He could smell the comforting oil and the trembling died down. "I didn't mean to scratch you, Pete."

"It doesn't matter," Pete said with a shrug of his shoulders. "Come on, Rock, it's not the first time and it won't be the last." He used his free hand to rub behind Rocket's ears. "Hey, now those things are out, you'll be out of here real soon."

Rocket raised his eyebrow. "Six days, Quill."

"Which are going to fly past you." Gamora promised. The tips of her hair were tickling against his ear, but he didn't mind as much as he usually would. "You've already been here for seven days." 

"What about 'em?"

"The days went by quickly."

Rocket half-smiled. "I guess. Being asleep most of the time helped."

"Well..." Gamora smiled back. "I think you're right about that." She touched his shoulder and started getting to her feet. "I'm going to get some food. I'll be back soon."

As the woman left, Rocket released Quill's hand, shifting closer to the Terran. He'd made the man bleed (and, as Quill had said, it wasn't for the first time), yet he was in no hurry to leave him. No, he was right there by his side. Rocket touched the long smooth line running down his torso. "Pete, that monitor...did the doctor find it before or after she took out my liver?"  

"Before. I thought you'd want the liver out before the monitor."

"You thought right. Thanks."

"I wanted to ask you. Why did you ask me to sign that document?"

"Which one?"

"You know, the one saying that if you couldn't make your own decisions-"

"Oh," Rocket interrupted. "Oh, _that_ one. Well, why the hell do you think?"

"I don't know, Rock. Kinda why I asked."

"That day you saw the implants." At Quill's blank look, Rocket tried to help. "In the Kyln. I know you were staring at them. You weren't the first to see 'em...but you were the first to not comment on 'em. Every prison I was in before then, I had questions. 'What the hell are those?' 'What does that thing do?' 'Do they hurt?' 'Can I touch them?'" Rocket shook his head at Pete's look of horror. "Happened every time. I was just waitin' for you to say something and you didn't. But I'll bet you had questions then, didn't you?"

"Yeah. That question was 'why would you do that to somebody?'"

Rocket laughed bitterly. "We know the answer to that now, Pete. Anyway, you didn't make me feel more of a freak for having them. Groot said...he said to me that you'd probably be a good friend."

Quill looked touched. "He did?"

"Yeah. He thought a lot of you." Not as much as he'd thought of Rocket, but it was a close second if Rocket had to guess. "You did right by me in the Kyln, that time I got drunk and tried to kill everyone, and you did right by me that time I freaked out when Groot was still in his pot. I trust Gamora and Drax, but it's you I've trusted the longest."

Quill squeezed around his shoulders. "You trust me enough to answer another question?"

"Goddammit, Pete, how many questions does one man have?" Rocket rubbed his hands over his eyes and sighed. "Fine. What?"

"Why don't you sleep in your bed at night?"

"I told you, I fall out-"

"I saw you physically slide yourself out of it last night and then fall asleep on the floor."

"You were hallucinating."

"Rock..." Quill's voice was amused, but carried a serious undertone. "Quit trying to bullshit me. What's going on?"

"You could never understand." Rocket told him. "Even I don't get it. It just doesn't feel right to be healing on a soft surface. All I used to get was the floor of the cage I lived in. Guess I got too used to it."

Quill frowned in thought and reached over to pull at the mattress. Suddenly he smiled and got up from the bed. "I know. I know what's going to help. I need to get you off of this for a sec, okay?" He reached for him and Rocket tensed again, briefly, before getting carefully scooped up. The mattress was thrown onto the floor in a fluid motion and Peter arranged the throw on the wooden slab the mattress had covered. "There you go," Quill said, setting him back down. "Problem solved."

How had he not known he had been living with a genius? The entire bed seemed so much more familiar and pleasant to him now, the blanket keeping him from being too uncomfortable, the structure now much more solid.  He could smell Drax's oil on the pillow - he must've applied it when Rocket hadn't been looking - and rested his head back. "It's nice. Really nice. Thanks."

"No problem." Peter sat back down and smoothed over the fur on his head. "Better than the floor?"

Rocket shook his head a little before smiling at him. "Much better." 

* * *

_"No, don't..."_

_"You can't have a gaping wound like that all night." Gax said. The two sides of the stapler clamped shut around 89P13's flesh, making him hiss. "I don't know. You're so difficult to please at times. One minute, you're saying 'stop' to the surgery and the next, you're saying 'stop' when I'm helping you after it."_

_"You wouldn't like it." 89P13 put his hand over where his creator was reaching. "Gax,_ no."

_"Stop making a fuss."  Gax brushed away his hands and stapled again. "One more to go."_

_"I said no!"_

_"Do you want an infection eating away at your skin? No? Then keep still and stop whining."_

_89P13 edged back. There was a huge danger in annoying Gax when he held the stapler, but he had no wish for any more little strips of cheap metal in his body. "I did tell you 'no'," he reminded his creator when he received a highly irritated look._

_"Stop being a nuisance and come here."_

_That was when 89P13 hit upon the most dangerous idea he had ever had. He jumped onto his feet and knocked the stapler out of his creator's hand. To his disappointment, it didn't break, instead clattering noisily on the floor._

_"Oh, for-" Gax looked from the stapler to him and then grabbed him under one arm. "What the_ hell _has gotten into you?"_

_89P13 found that he really didn't care to be sideways. He tried wriggling free, but to no avail. The stapler, he soon found, still worked and he yelped as another was clamped into his skin. He put his hands over his eyes and then looked through his fingers to secretly gauge how angry Gax was with him. Yes, he was indeed livid and 89P13 began to wish that the stupid stapler had just broken like he'd wanted it to._

_"Get your hands away from your eyes."_

_Maybe he could save himself. Maybe. "Gax," he said quietly, bringing his hands just below his eyes. "Gax, before you get angry-"_

_"I'm_ already _angry."_

_"Oh." 89P13 had been worried about that. "Before you get angrier..."_

_Gax raised his brow. It was the exact same look he gave when 89P13 was working through a particularly difficult problem, which he supposed this current predicament actually was. "Come on. I want to hear what you've got to say for yourself."_

_"I think the staples are dangerous."_

_"You think they're dangerous."_

_"Yes." 89P13 said. "They're invasive and could become infected and kill me."_

_"I see." Gax said. "So you decided to take matters into your own hands rather than share this concern?"_

_"I didn't think you'd believe me."_

_"How long have you had this thought going around that brain of yours?"_

_"Not long." 89P13 said, because it wasn't technically a lie. "So you can see why I had to break it, right?"_

_"No, I can't see why you tried to break it."_

_"Gax! I just said-"_

_"I know what you said. You told me a bunch of lies and then expected me to be gullible enough to believe them."_

_"I didn't tell a bunch of lies." But it was clear that he wasn't getting away with anything today. Maybe a little honesty would help his situation. He hoped so. "I only told one and I had a point."_

_"Did you really think I was stupid enough to fall for the nonsense you were trying to tell me?"_

_"Yes."_

_Gax grabbed his ear and twisted, ignoring his cry of pain. "Nothing is allowed to happen to you," he said coldly. "I'm not going to let anything happen. When it comes to your health, we're on the same side. Do yourself a favour and remember that."_

_"Ow!! Gax, I will! Let go of my ear!" 89P13 pulled at the Aakon's fingers futilely. "Gax, I'm sorry!"_

_Gax loosened his hold, but kept a tight grip on 89P13's ear. "You're a clever boy, coming up with that lie, aren't you?"_

_"I don't know!" It was hard to understand Gax. Truth often brought as much punishment as lies did._

_"You_ are _a clever boy."  Gax told him softly, his gentle voice a contrast against the borderline brutal strength he was using. "But your memory is abysmal. How many times have I told you not to lie to me?"_

_It was a question he truly didn't know how to answer. 89P13 shook his head. "I...I don't know, Gax."_

_"Unless it improves, I think you'll need modifications to your brain."_

_"No. I won't lie again, I promise!"_

_"We'll see if you remember this promise." The implication was clear. He was on his last chance. One more lie and he went under a knife. Gax released his ear and took his hand, separating the thumb and index finger so the skin between stretched taut, almost to the point that it hurt. "Do you know what that part is called?"_

_89P13 looked at his hand, which was so, so small in the yellow palm of his creator. "No."_

_"That's the purlicue. No important veins or arteries run through it."  Gax brought the stapler toward the purlicue and 89P13 gasped in fear as it clamped lightly around the ridge of flesh. "Just in case you_ were _afraid of infection."_

_The stapler snapped, forcing the sharp metal through the skin and 89P13 screamed._

* * *

Not for the first time, Rocket woke up panting, his palms drenched with sweat. He licked them, even though they tasted of sweat and terror and stopped when his tongue met something slightly rough, wet and acidic to the taste.

"There you go, Rock." Peter said, gently rubbing his shoulder. "Got a washcloth for you."

He must have woken them up with his screaming. It had happened with Groot when he'd been living. He felt something hard in his throat and swallowed. He _needed_ him, more than he needed anything else the galaxy could offer. But his friend was dead and gone and no amount of need was going to bring him back. At least he was surrounded by three people who knew to an extent what had happened to him. "Gax put a staple in my hand..." 

Green fingers took his own and sure enough, there was no damage. "You had a bad dream," Gamora told him, her thumb brushing over his knuckles. She probably meant it to be comforting, but it tickled. "It was a dream."

Rocket took a deep breath. She was right, it was a dream, a memory. It wasn't showing him what was going to happen in the future. All the same, he still felt the bite from the stapler in his purlicue. 

"Would you like to share a mat with one of us for tonight?"

Rocket considered the benefits. It  _would_ feel a lot safer, but what if one of them accidentally rolled over and squashed him? Wouldn't that be frickin' great - facing his fears and demons only to get crushed to death by a well-meaning idiot. "I'm okay." He saw his bag and remembered the important item it contained. "Will one of you hand me my tablet?"  

Drax seemed to have fallen foul of miscommunication, for he lifted up the entire bag and placed it by Rocket's feet. "Will you be alright?"

Rocket opened the bag and searched through it for the tablet, soon feeling its smooth surface under his hands. "I'm fine. Go back to bed." For once, he was listened to. Someone touched his shoulder briefly and Gamora's hand left his, leaving him in silence and peace. He knew that his ears were more sensitive than theirs, something he was truly grateful for as he lowered the volume. His mother's 'voice' reached his ears and he smiled, growing drowsy as he watched the love that he had lost.

 

 


	28. Chapter 28

_Chitter-chitter-chitter._ The sound of his infant self 'talking' to his mother in their strange language, her voice talking back to him. Rocket cracked open his right eye, blinking at the bright sunlight that filled his vision. He could still hear 89P09. _Damnit._ He must have fallen asleep while watching her. He reached for it, but his hand didn't find the smooth screen of the tablet. His eyes snapped open. The one thing worse than being seen to miss the mother he'd never known was losing her all over again. "Mom?" It was a whisper, but someone's hand - Mantis' hand, he realised - steadied him as he tried to get himself to stand up. She must have swapped places with the other three. "Let go of me!"

"What are you trying to find?"

"Nothing!" But he really couldn't lose her again. He was sure that no one else could hear her. His hearing was even better than Gamora's and he was only just catching the sound of 89P09's voice. "I can't find my tablet." With luck, she wouldn't see his mother if she did find the tablet.

"Where did you last see it?"

Rocket gestured around the bed. "It has important stuff on it." Hopefully Mantis would accept this and not ask him any awkward questions.

Mantis disappeared from view as she crouched by the bed. "Ah!" she said. "I see something..." There was a soft sliding of metal against wood and she stood, holding the tablet in her hand. Any relief Rocket had at seeing the tablet again quickly disappeared as she glanced at it. Recognition flickered in her eyes. "Is this you, puppy?"

_Fuck._ "It's none of your damn business who that is. Give it here!"

Mantis did as he asked, gently pushing it into his hands. She folded her hands, her eyelashes lowering. "It's you with your mother. Isn't it?"

Rocket glared at her. Why couldn't the woman just leave it? "I told you, it's none of your business, so quit asking who it is and-"

"She's beautiful."

Whatever he'd been expecting her to say, a compliment to the feral beast that had birthed him hadn't been it. "No she's not." She was mangy, sharp-faced, emancipated and toothy. A loving parent she had undoubtedly been, but beautiful? She was no more beautiful than _he_ was.

Mantis looked into his eyes. A smile brightened her face. "Love is beautiful and so are the ones who feel it."

And 89P09 had loved him. Rocket held the tablet to his chest protectively and avoided the Empath's eyes. "I don't want to forget her again."

"You didn't forget her the first time."

"I didn't _remember_ her." Rocket edged to the side of the bed so Mantis wouldn't squash him as she sat down. "Hell, I _don't_ remember her. But now I can know her, so I look at her pictures, watch the videos and it's like I have memories."

"You don't need to hide her, you know." Mantis' voice was soft, careful. "She's as much a part of you as you are of her."

"I'm not ashamed of her." Not any more. "It's just stupid to miss what I never even had."

Mantis shook her head. "It's not stupid, puppy. I missed my parents, just like you do."

"You never even met them?"

Mantis sighed. "No. They were gone long before I hatched. I don't have anything of them." Her face turned thoughtful. "Except for myself, I suppose..."

Rocket loosened his hold on the tablet. He could see his mother's face on the screen. He pulled Mantis' arm, directing her attention to the tablet. "You can share my memories if you like my mom so damn much."

"I would like to...but I don't look anything like her."

"Neither does Groot, but she's still his grandma."

Mantis giggled and rested on her side to watch 89P09. Her eyes were unusually shiny as she watched the interactions Rocket had once shared with his mother. "She looks just like you."

"Yeah." Except for the fact that he was far healthier than she had been. "She was a good mom."

With sincerity, Mantis said; "So are you."

Rocket wasn't a mom. But he knew a compliment when he got one. He let Mantis support the tablet with her fingertips and felt his ears flick as footsteps sounded outside the door. He wanted to hide 89P09 away again. But then he looked at Mantis, who had never known her family, never even _seen_ them for that matter. He thought of Quill, who unashamedly treasured primitive technology (wonderful technology, regardless) because it came from his parents. Locating the volume button, he pressed down until the language his mother had spoken filled the air. Despite hearing her strange noises, he was aware of the door opening and tensed, waiting to hear something about her. How weird she sounded. How freakish they both were in their feral states. The fact that she pulled him to her teats even though it was obvious he had grown teeth and was far too old to be breastfed.

"Can we watch?"

Rocket looked into Gamora's eyes. No judging, no contempt. Just curiosity and interest. Two things he could live with. He shrugged. "Do what you want." He watched out of the corner of his eyes as they looked at his mother. Took in her haggard appearance, her limping walk, the skeletal frame covered by skin and grief-thinned fur. Going by the smiles, he guessed that they saw beyond those things, just like he did.

"She is a great mom." Quill said, his eyes following Rocket's younger self as he chased after his mother's tail, swiping at it with miniscule paws. "I used to play with my mom's apron strings like that." 

89P09 sat down, curling her tail around herself. Most kids would have accepted that playtime was finished. Not him. Oh, no. He picked up the tip of her tail in his mouth and pulled on it, much to his mother's disbelief and annoyance and to everyone else's amusement. "This is my favourite one of her," Rocket admitted. 89P09 reached over and butted her head gently against his. It was this that made him drop her tail and rest against her side, chittering incessantly. "Even when I was being a pain in her ass, she never got pissed."

"You're as good as she is, Rock."

89P09 had set a pretty high bar, but Rocket didn't feel like arguing about the matter. "Groot likes to watch her too. Sometimes I watch her by myself."

Drax nodded in silent understanding. At least _he_ had gotten the hint that this groupwatch of 89P09 was a rare event, unlikely to ever be repeated. Rocket only hoped that the others had too.

* * *

"You'll be discharged in a few days," Faiix said, after quickly checking over the newest scar added to Rocket's vast collection. "Maybe the day after tomorrow."

"Thank God."

Faiix grinned. "Is it really so bad in here?"

"No, but I still want to get out."

The doctor nodded her understanding and tossed her hair back over her shoulders. "I meant to ask about the original liver. It's in storage, but I wasn't sure if you still wanted it for anything."

"Oh, yeah." One of the last pieces of the only sibling he'd ever known. Rocket swallowed and absently rubbed a palm over where 89P12's liver had been sewn into him. "I was going to bury it." 89P12 had either been left to rot among the bodies of the other three siblings or she had been tossed into an incinerator. He only hoped that she had been completely dead when she had been disposed of.

"Is there any preparation you want done to it? I can get in touch with the mourning department..."

"I'm not mourning for my sister, I just want a little part of her to be taken care of." Rocket scratched his jaw and met the doctor's eyes. "Is there an ice-box you could put it in? I don't want to see her liver, but I want it in the room." Just so he knew where it was. He didn't think anyone would try to steal it, but it didn't hurt to be careful. Who knew what kind of lunatic would try to commit a heist at a hospital?

"I'm sure that one can be arranged." Faiix said and she straightened her back, an indication that she was ready to leave to visit another of her patients. Even so, she smiled down at him. "Is there anything else?"

"No, I'm fine. Go butcher somebody else."

Faiix laughed and turned away. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Actually," Rocket said as the doctor reached for the door handle. "There is something."

Faiix turned, taking a step back toward him. "What is it?"

"Thanks." Rocket managed a weak smile. "Feels weird to say that to someone after a surgery. But you did everything I asked and I'm grateful. So, thanks."

"I'm glad you're comfortable here."

Faiix didn't seem to realise all the good that she had done and he didn't know how to tell her. Still, he could hint at it. "I can call you any time, right?" If he ever got so sick again, there was no other person he would want to heal him.

"I'd like that." Faiix opened the door, but didn't immediately step through it, instead keeping eye contact with him. "I'd like that very much."

Maybe, Rocket thought as the doctor disappeared and Mantis stirred like a shadow in the corner of his eye, just _maybe_ he would even consider agreeing to a check-up in the next several years or so.

 

 


	29. Chapter 29

The tiling was cold and seamless under his palms. Not perfectly smooth. But as close to it as Rocket was going to get. He had been able to see white, sparkling stars from his bed, so had decided to vacate it so he could watch them. Then the sunrise had begun. At some point Gamora had joined him, sitting in cross-legged silence as the light of the suns' rays reflected in her dark eyes. Rocket's thumb had found a gap in the tiling and he was unable to stop pressing the pad of his thumb into the space. He'd nick himself if he wasn't careful, but he couldn't help himself. "I'm out."

"Yes. Your time in this hospital has finally come to an end." Gamora stretched her arms out ahead of herself and Rocket suddenly realised just how fucking bored she had to have been while he'd been lounging around. "Would you like me to wake the other two?"

Rocket looked back at the sunrise. The pinks and reds were changing to light gold. It wasn't so interesting any more, so he shrugged. "It might get us out of here quicker." He pulled at sleeve on his jumpsuit. It felt weird to wear one again after so long. "I never want to see the inside of another hospital again."

"So you've said." Gamora smiled and then used her foot to prod Drax's shoulder. "Wake up."

"I am awake." Drax said, his eyes shut. "I was waiting for Quill to awaken."

"I'm gettin' up." Quill grumbled. He opened an eye, saw the earliness of the morning and shuddered. "You two wake up too early."

"I thought you said you were getting up." Rocket said pointedly. "Come on, Pete. We can go back to the hotel, get Groot and everybody and go out somewhere for breakfast."

That had an effect. Quill sat up, not without several loud yawns, and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "I like that idea."

"Fuckin' act like it. Get up." As his captain began pulling a shirt on, Rocket went to the bed to take the icebox from underneath. It was small. Compact. Didn't look like it was holding an internal organ, but there was most certainly one locked away in there. He carried it to his satchel and stowed it away, ignoring Gamora's eyes as they followed him. She probably wondered just what the hell it was, but she didn't ask - maybe knowing that she wouldn't get much of an answer. "Drax," he said. "You ready?"

Drax was buckling his boots and he hummed in a manner to indicate that he was almost ready, but not just yet. Then, when he was ready, he held out a hand. "You shouldn't carry anything that might strain your injury."

"What injury? I'm not-" Then he remembered the stitch, the newly-repaired cells inside his body. He was healthy enough to leave hospital, but Drax did have a point. Last thing he wanted was to find himself back in hospital because he'd done something dumb like pick up something. Reluctantly, he pushed the satchel Drax's way with his foot. "Okay." At least he wouldn't be reliant for long. Another week and he'd be completely normal again. It was a long wait, but it was better than hanging out in bed all day. Maybe, in a few days' time, he could persuade Pete that he could safely withstand space travel. But even if he couldn't, that didn't matter. Rocket had a soft spot in his heart for Xandar.

* * *

The stairs weren't as bad as he had worried they would be. Even if he did have to rest a hand against the wall as he's descended, he had still managed to tackle them, all by himself, and he'd been able to keep up with the others.

_'Even a really stupid_ little _victory is still a victory.'_ Rocket guessed as he reached the last step. He wanted to run to the entrance so he could get out of the hospital quicker, but didn't trust his own luck enough to try. It hit him that this was the first time, ever, he didn't fear or even hate the hospital. He just wanted out. The entrance doors slid open, bringing a fresh breeze, along which he could smell sweet grass, damp soil and...

"Oh, good, you are finally out."

Lylla's tablet didn't leave a lot of room for emotive speaking, but the relief was evident in her face. If it wasn't for her scent caught in the air, he never would have believed that she was standing there. "You came?"

"Well." Lylla looked at the hospital, her ears pinned back against her rounded skull. "I tried to."

She didn't seem to understand just how big of a thing that simply trying was. Rocket smiled at her. "Come on, you've got to catch me up on _all_ the stuff my kid got up to with you."

"All of it? There is only so much time in a day."

"I spent nearly a month in hospital." Rocket pointed out.

"I know you did and I am very proud of you. But I am old and need things like sleep."

"Especially after spending nearly a month with a young and excitable child," Drax said.

"That is right." Lylla walked by his side as they began leaving the hospital behind. "Instead, can you tell me about your time away? How has the liver been working?"

"The doctor said I should test it out immediately by drowning it in liquor."

Lylla looked disbelievingly at him. "What did she really say?"

"Well, she didn't say _not_ to..." Rocket smiled at the amused look on Lylla's face. "But she did say that I need to give my body a few more days to fully mend itself back together before I can do normal stuff."

"And the prosthetic is working?"

"It's great." Rocket assured her. He let her take his hand as they approached a set of steps and didn't move to snatch it back as they made it to the end. "I think it works better than the old one did."

"What became of it?"

"Oh..." Rocket glanced at the bag hanging from Drax's hand. "It's gonna be put someplace to rest." He caught Gamora's eyes again and noticed the light of understanding within them. She had guessed what his plans were, but she didn't object against them. 89P12 had been killed for his benefit. The liver he'd been "gifted" was his sole responsibility. He had to bury it alone. Luckily, Gamora seemed to understand that. "So, have you found a place to set up yet?"

"They found me a place close to the river." Lylla's voice, as always, gave nothing away. The dreamy expression on her face told Rocket that a riverside dwelling was exactly what she wanted - even if it wasn't in the world she had grown to love. She would be able to spend nights under the stars, close to the water she loved so much, surrounded by landmines she had made herself. Safe, happy and protected. Just what he wanted for the woman who had let him into her heart after the passing of her own children. "I hope you will visit me."

"Sure. I'll sneak out and take joyrides with Groot to see you when everyone else is sleepin'."

Lylla huffed - the only way she was able to laugh. "You do not need to take drastic measures like that on my behalf, but thank you." She released his hand to scratch behind her ear, looking strangely animalistic for a brief moment. "How long will you be staying here now?"

"Not long." Rocket remembered Quill who was just behind him and looked up, finding the Terran's eyes. "Right?"

To his relief, Quill grinned. "Figured you'd want to get out of here as soon as you could. We made a deal with Ogord's faction. He's taking the Quadrant off our hands in exchange for a smaller ship." At Rocket's confused look, he shrugged awkwardly. It was clear that they were sharing the same thought - the Quadrant was _Yondu's._ "We can't man the Quadrant indefinitely. It's too big."

The only thing worse than getting shot of the Quadrant was neglecting it. Rocket could just imagine Yondu impatiently huffing at them for being so soft. "I hope the new ship isn't too small, Pete. There's six of us now." Maybe, in a few years' time, he could convince Lylla to stay and make it seven. For now, it was six.

"Hey, I'm the captain. Of course I make sure of these things." Pete rubbed his jaw. "If it is too small, blame Kraglin. He chose it." 

* * *

_"I_ chose it?" Kraglin shook his head. "Pete, you fuckin' liar..."

"I am Groot!" _'Daddy Peter's a fuckin' liar!'_ Groot repeated gleefully from where he stood on Rocket's shoulder.

"Hey!" Rocket glared at Kraglin. "Just because this idiot says that doesn't mean that  _you_ should!" Terrible influences, each and every one of them. He dreaded to think how much parenting he would need to do in the next couple of months. He hid a yawn and felt Groot jump down onto his lap. He was frickin' tired. He didn't know how or why, but his entire body was crying out for sleep. Some jerk scratched the top of his head with their fingertips, leaving the fur sticking up. "Keep your fingers to yourselves if you want to keep 'em."

"Maybe we could go out for dinner tonight instead?" Gamora suggested.

"Mmhm." Rocket pulled Groot closer and pressed the side of his head into the couch cushions. He'd suggested breakfast and he was firmly sticking to it, tiredness be damned. "No, no. 's okay. Let's go out now."

Someone smoothed down the fur on his head. He liked that person, whoever it was. "Catch up on your sleep," he heard Kraglin's voice say. "I bet you never caught so much as a wink in that hospital."

If he was being strictly honest, he hadn't exactly slept _well_ in the hospital. "I couldn't." Rocket closed his eyes, loosening his arms so Groot could leave if he wanted to. "I tried to."

"It is alright. Catch up now and you'll be back to normal tomorrow." Lylla set her tablet somewhere by his feet and he was aware of her sitting by him, although she didn't make a move to touch him. Somehow, he knew that when he woke up, he would find her by his side as if it was the one place she truly belonged.

* * *

_The soft sandy dirt beneath his feet was a dusty orange in colour and he recognised the brightly, multi-coloured clouds above his head. There was no doubt that this world, one he had personally chosen to die on when  he'd first learned he was dying and surgery hadn't been an option, was the place he was currently in for a reason. Wait, was he dead? No, the universe couldn't be that cruel. He remembered roughly where to find the perfectly spherical pools of water in opaque rainbow hues and set off to find them, looking up to the sky every once in a while to see if the clouds had cleared. They hadn't. Just as he remembered on his last visit to this strange, multi-coloured planet._

_The pools were as beautiful as he remembered. Turquoise, ochre, amber and violet discs of liquid showed his reflection and he suddenly realised that there were, in fact two reflections. One was his. And the other was a face he had never thought he'd see again. "G...Groot?"_

_A smile gently split the familiar wooden face and Groot went from his usual height of nine feet to around five  feet as he dropped to his knees. "I am Groot!"_ 'I'm so glad to see you again!'

_Rocket couldn't think of anything else to say, except for; "Groot?!" This was crazy. It was impossible. He reached out to touch Groot's arm, just to make sure that he was real. He could feel the roughness of bark underneath his fingertips, so different to his - their - son's softer bark. It was Groot. 100%, undeniably, him. Rocket smiled. "Groot. Groot!" He jumped at him, wrapping his arms around his neck, trying not to remember the last time he hugged his best friend like it. "I miss you."_

_"I am Groot!"_ 'I miss you too!'

_Rocket felt wooden hands on his back, careful as always. "You left. You always promised me that you'd never leave."_

_"I am Groot."_ 'I know. I never wanted to hurt you.'

_"Course you didn't." Rocket pressed his cheek against Groot's neck, yearning for that old feeling of absolute safety. "You didn't hurt me. Losin' you did...but it's the others I feel sorry for. They didn't have the time with you that I did." He let go of Groot, just enough to look into his eyes. "You left someone else behind."_

_"I am Groot?"_ 'I did?' 

_"You've got a son. He was born after... After you were gone."_

_Groot's eyes widened. "I am Groot...I am Groot? "_ 'I didn't... I never thought I could have a child...What is he like?' 

_"He's the greatest kid to ever exist." Rocket said truthfully._

_Groot hummed, a smile on his lips. "I am Groot."_ 'I wish I could meet him.'

_Rocket sighed. Of course, Groot wasn't able to watch his son grow up, as his dad had been able to for him. "Me, too. I'll tell him about you. I promise. Right now, I don't know if he'd understand about you and the sacrifice you made for us all."_

_"I am Groot."_ 'My sapling is in good hands.' _Groot smiled down at him, all warm eyes and trust._ 'I know he is.'

_"Just like I was for all them years." Rocket looked into those dark gold eyes, feeling much calmer than he had in the past several months. "If it hadn't been for you, I really would've turned out to be a monster."_

_"I am Groot."_ 'I think it just would have taken you a little while longer to find your way to the light.' _Groot said gently._

_Rocket half-smiled. "If you say so." Groot had always seen the best in him where others, including Rocket, had only seen the worst. "Did you know? Did you know how important you are to me?"_

_"I am Groot."_ 'Yes.'

_Thank God. "You always deserved a hell of a lot better than me."_

_Groot shook his head. "I am Groot."_ 'That isn't true. You were my family for years and I was always glad that you were.'

_"I wish you could come back."_

_Groot sighed this time, his eyes full of regret. "I am Groot."_ 'It isn't your time to join me. But when it is, I'll be there.'

_Rocket glanced away guiltily. "Is it okay with you if I hope it isn't for a really long time?"_

_Groot laughed. "I am Groot."_ 'That's what I hope too. I want you and the little one to live long and happy lives.'

_Rocket smiled and looked back at the Flora Colossus. Anything for Groot. The both of them. "Then that's what we'll do."_

 


	30. Chapter 30

Dark, moist soil thudded over the icebox. Rocket hadn't been able to take the little piece of 89P12 out of the box, much less bury it unprotected where insects would eat it and animals would dig it up. He'd already let his sister down enough. Smoothing over the makeshift grave, he looked at the one only six feet away from it. "Take care of my sister for me, will you, Groot?" It was a stupid question. Of course Groot would. He brushed the earth off his hands and looked up at the sky, no longer blackened by night. The first of the three suns would be up soon. And then his family would be awake too. He knew he had to go back soon, but for now, he just wanted time with the sister he'd not known how to love. He sat by her grave and started pulling tiny white flowers up from the ground, tossing them over the flattened mound of soil. Groot had had flowers on his grave. They had been large, cheerful, like him. These flowers were tiny and defenceless and he soon stopped. How pathetic to feel empathy for a fucking flower, but here he was.

He blamed Groot.

Rocket looked back at the sky. Yep, he definitely needed to get back if he wanted to avoid stupid questions. He got to his feet and looked back at the little grave. "I'll take good care of your heart." And the other things. He could still see the little infant who had curled up in his arms in the dream he'd had during surgery. Hard to think that someone could be that cruel to take away her life just because she wasn't the right gender. But then, he was glad that she had escaped the worst of the horrors, even if it meant that she wasn't by his side. "I'll come back someday. See you, Twelve." Walking away wasn't so hard. He knew that the only one of his siblings he had ever known, however short the time had been, was in good hands.

* * *

"So," said Quill, resting his hands on his hips. "What do you think?"

Rocket had, in fact, spotted many, many things in need of attention, but he didn't want to spoil the man's enthusiasm. "If it means I don't have to share a sleeping space with anyone, I'll live in any ship."

"I'm glad you said that because I didn't feel like splurging a million units on a new spaceship."

"We're the guardians of the galaxy. Tell 'em to give you a discount."

"That _was_ a discount."

"Well, this ship is fine, anyways." It had plenty of space for Groot to run around in, everyone had somewhere to sleep and Rocket had things to keep his mind and hands busy. And, if he could convince Lylla to stay one day, there was space for her. It was as close to perfect as they were going to get. And it was free.

"There was something else." Pete said casually. There was a noticeable spark in his eye, but the rest of his face gave nothing away. Nonetheless, Rocket knew that something was up. The man walked on, leaving Rocket with nothing else to do, but follow. It was clear by the way he walked that he was nervous about something, but before Rocket could ask what was going on, the semi-Terran stopped just outside of a hatch and hesitated before touching a large green button. The hatch rose with a loud, high-pitched screeching. Yet another thing he was going to need to fix. 

Quill ducked under the door before it could fully rise and Rocket followed, wondering just what the hell he was being so secretive about. And then he saw what he had walked into. A hangar room. Not a large one. One big enough to hold three one-person ships. Maybe around eight pods. But instead of it holding three small spaceships or eight pods, it held just one. Or the remains of her anyway. They never did manage to find all of her. "The Milano? Do you want me to fix her?"

Quill shook his head. "No. You can do what you want with her. She's yours."

"What?"

Pete smiled. "Happy birthday, Rock."

Rocket blinked at him. "How did you know?" He was pretty sure that he hadn't told anyone about the fact he was turning seven years old.

"Faiix called last night when you were sleepin'. She mentioned it. Said it would be better for you if you didn't hit up the bars just yet."

"I'm gettin' old and I can't even drink." Rocket stepped back as Quill crouched down. "What's the big deal about it being my birthday?"

"Do you celebrate them?"

Rocket shrugged. "I didn't know when it was. I'm sure Groot would've done somethin', but I was never interested in findin' out."

"How about celebrating this one?" Quill grinned. "I mean...I'm not sure I'll be able to top a spaceship when you turn eight, but I can try."

"You're actually serious about the Milano?" Granted, it was now nothing more than a pile of metal and broken machinery, but it had history. Quill's history. He'd learned to pilot in her, he'd worked on her with Yondu and the Ravagers he'd grown up with. And now he was giving her away?

"Positive."

"Why?"

"It's a birthday tradition to give people presents." Pete said. "My grandpa used to say it was to bribe people into staying alive for another year. My mom said it was to show people how appreciated they are by giving them something they'd like." He must have seen the confusion on Rocket's face, because he added; "I know you'll take good care of her."

Rocket had never found himself short of words to say before, but now he couldn't find anything to say. What was there to say to somebody who gifted something incredible just because of someone else existing? Fortunately, Quill came up with a solution by holding out his arms in a pretty clear invitation for a hug. The man was unusually delicate as Rocket leaned in for the hug - probably because he was afraid that he was fragile or something after the surgery. "I won't break, Pete." He inhaled sharply as Quill took this as a cue to almost squeeze the life out of him. "Thanks," he said quietly. "Not just for the ship. For...y'know, for everything."

"It's what I'm here for." Pete said and Rocket knew that he meant it.

* * *

Colours exploded across the black sky. Lylla had made up explosives, (non-lethal, so she insisted), which combusted in thousands of different colours when they were thrown in the air. Rocket made a mental note to ask her how she had made them as he watched pink and green fall gently back to the ground, burning out before they could reach the grass. He looked at Lylla who was sitting by his side, letting Groot tie blades of grass around her fingers like thin, green rings. "I'm going to miss you."

Lylla used her spare hand to reach for her tablet. "I will miss you too. All of you."

She wasn't going to change her mind, Rocket knew, but he could call her. "Are you sure you're gonna be okay?"

Lylla smiled softly as she watched Drax splash around with Mantis in the river. "I am quite sure. I have protection here and I have company. I will be fine." She looked at him. "You are going soon."

"Yeah. I'll call you when it's morning here."

"I will look forward to that."

"I need you to do something for me."

"What is it?"

Rocket looked down at Groot who had tired of ligaturing Lylla's fingers with grass and was now focusing on Rocket's. "The grave."

Lylla made a sound of understanding. "I will look after it. You do not need to worry about that."

"Will you guys knock it off? We're meant to be flying out of here in twenty minutes and - oh, no. Drax, put me down!"

Rocket openly cackled as he watched Drax pull Quill effortlessly over his shoulder and then dump him in the river. "First bath of your life, huh, Quill?"

"Every single one of you is an asshole!" Quill said as he waded back to the shore. "Except for you guys, of course," he amended as Gamora, Lylla and Groot glared at him. He began squeezing water out of his clothes and kicked off his boots to empty out water that had collected inside.

Groot climbed onto Lylla's lap and hugged her around her neck. "I am Groot." _'I love you, Grandma.'_

Quill shared a smile with Rocket and shook his head from side to side, sending droplets of water everywhere.

"He says he loves you," Rocket translated to Lylla.

"I love you, too." Lylla brushed her thumb over Groot's cheek, smiling. The sapling smiled back at her and then looked at his tiny wooden hands. Then, slowly, a pod of gold began growing out of his wrist, followed by a long brown stem. The golden pod unfurled itself into six petals and Lylla's eyes widened. It was a smaller, but exact, replica of the flower she had received from the infant Flora Colossus' father.

"Look at that." Rocket said to Lylla. "You got his first flower."

* * *

"Oil levels?"

"Good."

"Fuel tank?"

"Full."

"Tunes?"

"I knew I'd forgotten something." Quill pressed the button and Terran instruments began playing. "Okay. Guess we're all set. Groot, you buckled in?"

"He's all good." Gamora confirmed. "So. Where next?"

_But maybe, you ain't never gonna feel this way_

_You ain't never gonna know me, but I know you_

"Damned if I know." Quill said and he began skipping through planets. "Let's see. Morag, no. Hala-"

"Absolutely not." Gamora answered.

"Agreed. Sovereign." Peter shuddered. "No. What about Knowhere?"

"Nope." Rocket still hadn't fully recovered from the last time and he doubted that anyone else had, for that matter. "It sucks. What about Contraxia?"

Kraglin, who was sitting a little to Rocket's left, perked up. "That sounds good to me."

"Well..." Quill looked at Groot. "Okay. But we won't stay long."

"Last time we went there, you had to be carried off the planet." Kraglin said, grinning at Quill. "Callin' Yondu all kinds o'names..."

_And I can't see the woods for the trees_

_You set them alight_

_Burning bridges as you go_

"I was drunk!" Peter nudged Rocket. _"That's_ why you want to go there, isn't it?"

Rocket shrugged. "It's cheap booze and one of the few places in the galaxy where they don't arrest you for being drunk in public."

"It's one of the few places in the galaxy where they arrest you for bein' _sober_ in public." Kraglin said.

"Exactly." Rocket could see the disapproving look on Drax's face. "Come on, Drax. You love to get drunk! And they have betting tables."

"Hmm." Drax rumbled. "I enjoy placing bets."

"And wrestling halls." Kraglin added.

That worked. Before Quill could press on the screen to accept their destination, Drax reached over and pressed it for him.

"Okay." Quill pulled up the accelerator. "Guys, just remember, we have reputations to uphold as guardians of the galaxy. However, none of that is going to matter in Contraxia, so we can just go wild."

"I was hopin' you'd say that, Pete." Kraglin laughed.

Rocket smiled and looked out of the window to his side. Down on the darkened world of Xandar was Lylla and just as he felt a pang of regret for leaving her behind, a splash of familiar pink light illuminated the dark skies and he realised that although he was leaving her, he wasn't forgetting her as he'd forgotten his mother and siblings. He couldn't. He loved her far too much for that.

 

_You've shown me prejudice and greed_

_And you've shown me how I must learn to deal with this disease_

_I look at things now in a different light than I did before_

_And I've found the cause_

_And I think you can be my cure_

He loved them all. In some way, they had all pulled through for him when he'd needed them the most. And the best part was, he no longer only had a handful of years to spend with them. He now had decades to live. And he couldn't think of anything he'd rather do with those decades than spend them living with the family he'd found.

_I'll be an angel and things can only get better._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To EmilliaGryphon, grootiez, Sinikettu and all of the others, my sincere gratitude for sticking with this! It was a rather difficult one at times, but we got there in the end. 
> 
> And to Woozletania - my biggest thanks. You were there pretty much every step of the way and I probably wouldn't have managed to finish it without your support and help. 
> 
> Be on the lookout for the next work! It'll be posted about on my tumblr - - - > madness-on-the-milano


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